


Forty-Eight Hours

by eauline



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Natasha Romanov Feels, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eauline/pseuds/eauline
Summary: Interconnecting short stories constructing the love story between Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff that should've been.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff, Maria Hill/Sam Wilson, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 210





	1. The Wrong Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should've happened in Captain America: Winter Solider.

All Natasha Romanoff could recall was the ominous computer simulation of Dr. Arnim Zola telling her and Steve, "Unfortunately you shall be too dead to hear it."

She didn't remember the missile blowing up the military bunker, the building crumbling to ruins and catching fire. She didn't remember Steve clutching her to his side as he protected them with his shield. She didn't remember the S.H.I.E.L.D helicopters flying above, searching for them as agents hunted for them on foot. She didn't remember Steve saving her life, but she knew he had, and she owed him.

Big time.

She'd awoken to him clumsily setting her down in the passenger seat of the truck before he got in himself and sped away before the S.H.I.E.L.D agents even noticed them.

It took an extraordinary amount of effort to even open her eyes and look at Steve Rogers who clutched the wheel with his jaw set. The ringing in her ears was just as intense as her headache, and her entire body was sore.

A building had literally fallen on them yet he still looked like an Adonis God.

It just wasn't fair.

"Glad to see you're awake..." He said to her, perceiving that she'd awoken from her dazed state, although he didn't even look at her, his azure eyes remaining on the winding road ahead.

Her throat was too dry to muster a response. She closed her eyes and with a soft groan, she dropped her head into her hands. It hurt to think, to try and comprehend exactly what the computer had been talking about. It hurt to think that she couldn't just call Fury and demand him to explain what was going on. Everything. Hurt.

"Если ты слаб, ты умрешь." _[If you're weak, you will die.]_

The words echoed through the ringing in her ears like nails on a chalk board. The Red Room had certainly taught her a lot of things but not how to handle her aching heart. Nor had she been taught how to curve an inclination for Captain America but that was an issue in its own entirety. Her stomach began to churn and her palms began to sweat as she thought of all the events that transpired in the last forty-eight hours. Specifically her kiss with Steve. "Steve, pull over." She mumbled under her breath, grasping onto the door handle and hauling herself up from her slouched position in the seat.

Her fucking luck.

She was going to throw up in front of Steve Rogers and if he didn't pull over fast enough, in this 'borrowed' truck.

"We can't right now." Steve shook his head, still not looking at her. If he had, he would've perceived her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

"Damn-it, I said pull over!" She shouted before she slapped her hand over her mouth as burning bile rose from her stomach and into her throat.

He finally looked at her, and his eyes widened in realization. Slamming on the breaks and jerking the wheel, the truck came to a screeching halt on the side of the road. Natasha all but fell out of the truck and leapt out as she threw up what was left in her stomach. Of course, Steve being the gentleman he was, got out with her and held her hair back. His fingertips brushed across the nape of her neck as he drew his hand across her back soothingly. It made goosebumps ghost across her pale skin. Fuck him. Fuck his stupid compassion. Fuck his stupid, handsome face.

Heaving for the last time, she squared her shoulders and stepped away from him to get back in the truck. She didn't thank him. She knew that she had to toughen up, to act like herself and not let Steve make her weak. He followed her lead and soon enough, they were speeding along the road once again. "We have to keep going. I know someone we might be able to stay with in D.C." He said, breaking the tense silence between he and Natasha.

She merely hummed in acknowledgement and that was all that was said for the rest of the drive.

The street lights were utterly blinding as they drove through countless small towns and past countless cities. Eventually, she let her eyes flutter shut, and she scummed to the darkness that dragged her under in waves. Sleep was just what she needed to recover from an evident concussion. When Natasha awoke again, the sun had risen over the horizon and its warm rays cast through the city of D.C. She'd slept the whole way there... although, she didn't know exactly where 'there' was. Everyone she knew was trying to kill them, and she didn't know where to turn to during a time like this. She had to trust Steve to take them somewhere safe and to her surprise, she did.

He navigated through a cookie-cuter neighborhood, past the homes with white picket fences and past the children playing outside without a care in the world, as if the threat of Hydra didn't loom over all their heads. Soon, he pulled to the curb in front of one of the homes and got out, opening the door for Natasha as well.

Natasha moved slowly, and he reached out to steady her as her head spun. "Are you going to throw up again?" He asked her.

"Don't ever mention that to anyone." She hissed, glaring up at him.

He had the audacity to smile! She wanted to slap it off his face, but she figured that since he'd saved her life, she would let it slide this time.

He led her around to the back door and knocked firmly. A few moments later, a man opened the door looking surprised. To be fair, Natasha would be too.

"Hey, man. I'm really sorry to do this. We need a place to lay low for a while..." Steve said quietly, his head hanging low.

Natasha looked up at the man, meeting his dark eyes. It was actually the runner Steve had been with when she'd picked him up a couple weeks ago. "Everyone we know is trying to kill us." She mumbled.

"Not everyone." He replied, opening the door wider, and she and Steve stepped inside. It was cozy and quaint - definitely not what she was expecting from a retired veteran. They exchanged cordial greetings; he was Sam Wilson and already knew who Natasha was, of course. He seemed polite and genuine; Steve was evidently a friend of his. She decided she'd trust Sam for the time being and if things were to go haywire, she still had her gun tucked into her bra. Sam gave them toiletries to use and showed them to a single guest bedroom, apparently assuming she and Steve were a couple. They were too exhausted to correct him. They'd spent the last forty-eight hours together, and they were closer than Natasha would like to admit.

As soon as the door was shut, and they were alone, Natasha peeled off the torn jacket. Bruises and cuts dotted her arms and her chest, though they would heal within the hours to come.

"Go take a shower. You need it." Steve said, lying down on the bed and closing his eyes.

The sleep deprivation was obviously getting to him; he'd been driving all night as Natasha had been in no shape to take the wheel.

"Thanks, Rogers. You know, you smell bad too." She retorted with the roll of her emerald eyes. As she shut the bathroom door, she heard him chuckle. That even sounded sexy.

She took her time in the shower, scrubbing the dirt and dried blood from her hair and cleaning the small scraps on her legs.

Steve should've joined her...

It was a lingering thought in the back of her mind in the worst of times.

She leaned back against the tile wall, closing her eyes as she envisaged Steve fucking her. She could just imagine his hands on her thighs, drawing her legs around his hips as he thrust inside her. She could imagine kissing his soft, supple lips, his delicious taste kindling emotions she'd never felt before. She continuously told herself it was just lust, that she wanted him between her legs and then she'd swiftly omit her desire for him. However, deep down... way deep down, she knew it was more than that. It was more than she could understand, more than she'd ever experienced in her life of murder and torture.

He was the most handsome man she'd ever laid her eyes on, but it wasn't just his appearance. It was his good-boy facade, and his huge heart (that was sure to get him hurt one day). It was the shiver that when up her spine when he touched her, and his laugh that forced her to hide her smile.

It was just everything about Steve-fucking-Rogers.

She hoped that denying her feelings towards him would make it go away (as if that ever worked). Or it would be even better if he found someone else, and she would be forced to let him go. However, all her attempts at setting him up had failed, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn't actually enthralled about that.

After she was clean and refreshed, she shut off the water and dried herself off. She then put on the black tee-shirt that she'd worn under her clothes and the clean-ish leggings from yesterday.

She accidentally awoke Steve when she walked back into the bedroom, and he sat up in bed. He soon dragged himself up and began to clean himself off in the bathroom while Natasha sat down on the bed and tried to dry her hair. The weight on her shoulders was staggering, and she tried to think of ways that they could stop Hydra. It was only she and Captain America. Sure, they were strong and even stronger together, but they couldn't defeat an entire army of Hydra agents.

She felt his eyes on her, and she glanced up to Steve looking at her from the doorway of the bathroom. "Are you okay?" He asked.

She nodded, setting down the towel with a heavy sigh. "Yeah..."

He already knew her better than she knew herself. He knew that she wasn't okay. She could control her features, but her eyes never lied.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, walking into the bedroom and sitting down beside her.

There was just something about him. She gazed into his piercing azure orbs; he was just so sincere and caring. She couldn't lie to him - it was futile after everything they'd been through together. "When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight, but I guess I just traded in the KGB for Hydra. I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but I guess I can't tell the difference anymore." She mumbled, twisting her hands together. She'd never really opened up to anyone, it wasn't in her nature to. However, it felt nice to finally voice her feelings to someone she trusted, and a significant weight was lifted off her shoulders.

"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business." Steve smiled, eliciting what Natasha had said to him in the truck.

She couldn't help but smile. "I owe you."

He shook his head, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "It's okay." He wasn't coy, brushing his thumb over the scars on her knuckles.

She didn't pull back, staring up at him. How could he even look at her, touch her? She was so tainted; so much red in her ledger. "If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, and you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?"

"I would now, and I'm always honest." He said firmly.

She was silent for a moment, staring at him. She would indubitably save his life, but it wasn't just because she owed him. She cared about him and that scared her. So, she tried to jest and ease her apprehension. "Well, you seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing." She said.

Nope, her joke didn't work. She still wanted to kiss him.

"Well, I guess I just like to know who I'm fighting." He chuckled. He reached out and brushed her hair over her shoulder, his fingertips brazenly touching her jaw. "Which I know isn't you."

She instinctively leaned into his touch. 'Just one second.' She told herself. For one moment, she would let herself relish in her ardor for him. Then it turned into two seconds, then three, then four... then the next thing she knew, her lips were on his.

She didn't even know who leaned in first.

This kiss was much more different than the one she'd forced upon him in the mall. This was passionate, deep... loving.

She needed more.

She needed him.

He grasped her hips, drawing her over him as he leaned back on the bed. She straddled him, combing her fingers through his blonde, tousled hair as he nipped and sucked on her bottom lip. She saw stars behind her closed eyelids, her toes curling in the comforter as heat pooled into her core.

Holy fuck. 

Steve Rogers definitely didn't need any practice.

He made her moan, his tongue sliding against hers before he drew back to gently suck her bottom lip. The sounds she made seemed to spur him on, and a strand of his control snapped. Flipping them over, he kissed her deeper, his hands everywhere as hers felt his hard-ridged muscles.

Specimen.

He was driving her crazy in the most perfect way possible. He stole the breath from her lungs, and she was the one to pull back simply because she needed to breathe. She shuddered as he sponged kisses down the column of her neck, focusing on a tender spot right above her collarbone.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered, sounding as breathless as she was.

She'd been called a lot of things but never beautiful. Never so genuine, never so meaningful. For once in her life, she was at a loss of words. _Oh_ , she was so falling for him.

She moaned appreciatively. "Steve..."

Just then, the door was opened, and there stood Sam who immediately flushed with embarrassment. "I made breakfast if you guys eat that sort of thing. Once you're done making out, of course."

Fucking. Sam. Wilson.

If looks could kill, he would've been dead from the glare Natasha gave him.


	2. If Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only Natasha Romanoff would've asked Steve Rogers to unzip her dress in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Only takes place before Avengers: Age of Ultron. I really love to humanize Natasha in these stories. I feel like there wasn't enough of that in the movies. She's such a badass, but she's the most sweet (and quirky) badass.

The crystal chandelier shone brightly above Natasha's head, the marble floors glistening under the light as she strode through the club amongst the crowd of rich, aging men and young women paid to be their arm candy. She was undercover in a flattering, red dress, her scarlett hair cascading to her shoulders in soft waves and a fake, diamond ring on her left finger. She knew Steve was watching her from the balcony above as they looked for the man who'd murdered one of Fury's technicians. It was a relatively, simple mission involving an undercover operation, but anything could go wrong; she was on high alert as was Steve.

The man, known only as Suspect #207, was nowhere to be seen among the throng of people at the gala. He was on the guest list for the club's auction and had already checked in, but she had the suspicion that he'd already snuck away. News spread fast that the Black Widow and Captain America were in town.

"I don't know where else to look." Natasha grumbled under her breath, speaking into the hidden communication device on the sleeve of her dress. "I could check the private rooms, but I don't want to come across an old man getting a blow job." She said, smirking to herself. A waiter strode past her, and she set down her wine glass on his platter. She looked up at the balcony where Steve was leaning over the railing, his piercing, azure orbs on her.

"Okay. Meet me outside." He replied, with a chuckle, through his own earpiece before there was static.

Casting one last glance around the room, Natasha walked outside to the club's back entrance where Steve was already waiting for her. There were no guards in sight, and she assumed he must've already cleared the area. However, they only had a few minutes to spare before the guards regained consciousness; she knew that Steve never liked to kill unless he absolutely had to.

He had their overnight bags slung across his broad shoulders and smiled at her as she came to stand in front of him, tilting her chin up to look at his handsome face. He slid his suit jacket off and draped it across her shoulders in a small, amiable gesture that made her smile, and her pulse spike. She could smell his cologne and something alluring like mint and leather - something entirely Steve. She grasped the hem and pulled it tighter around her, inhaling deeply as she stepped into the shadows with him trailing behind her.

"We'll try again tomorrow at the dinner they're having. He's supposed to give a speech." Steve said once they were a block away from the club and out of earshot.

She hummed in agreement, taking off her high heels as they begun to walk back to the hotel where Fury had booked a room for them. The Washington city was still bustling with life even though it was midnight. Traffic was still backed up, and annoying people were still shouting from the bars. She heard a shrill whistle, a man catcalling her from one of the restaurant's balcony.

"Hey, sexy-thang." The drunk shouted, climbing over the railing and stumbling to the sidewalk. She swiftly stepped back as he tried to swing an arm over her shoulder. She wanted to punch him, to show him just how 'sexy' she was with her foot up his ass but before she could do anything, Steve wrapped his arm around her and tugged her to his side. An enthralling shiver went up her spine as she pressed against his muscular body. He didn't have to say anything, simply casting a cool glare at the man who swiftly halted in his tracks, and they continued walking.

The drunk didn't follow.

"I can't let you kill a citizen." He said jokingly, drawing his arm from around her.

If it was anyone else, she would've been fuming with anger; she could have easily taken care of herself. However, this was Steve, and they always had one another's back, even if it was in a situation as simple as this.

"I wouldn't have killed him. He just would be nursing a broken nose tomorrow... maybe a broken arm." She said, pursing her lips and making him laugh.

He then glanced down at her bare feet. "Do you want my shoes?" He asked.

For a moment, she thought he was joking. Then, she realized he was being serious. Her heart thrummed though she tried not to show how much his venerate gesture affected her. She thought that she'd get used to them after working with him for a while, the absolute gentleman that Steve Rogers was - the man who always opened doors for her, made sure she was comfortable, and protected her even if she really didn't need him to. However, she still wasn't used to it. She might not ever be.

"No. It's not a long walk." She shook her head, pulling his jacket around her shoulders as it began to slide off. "So, tomorrow after his speech, I'll draw him away, and we can go from there." She said, distracting herself by thinking of ways to complete the mission tomorrow night.

"You're better at going undercover than I am." He replied. "We should have the same setup as we did tonight."

"Agreed." She said shortly.

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, they reached the embellished hotel. He opened the door for her, and she mumbled a "Thank you," as she walked past him. He checked them in at the front desk while she waited a few feet away, and she slid his jacket off her shoulders, adjusting her heels in her hands.

"Fury's being cheap; he only got us one bedroom." Steve sighed, walking over to Natasha. She shrugged, not entirely displeased, and they made their way to the room on the first floor.

"He's always cheap." She huffed. "But it's fine. I'm so tired I could sleep on a bed of nails, so the couch is no problem."

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Nat." He said with the roll his eyes. He slid the key into the lock and opened the door - at least it was a decent sized suite.

She threw down her heels and laid his jacket over the kitchen chair as he shut the door behind them. "Your ass is not fitting on that couch." She exclaimed when she saw the small, leather settle in the living room. "So, you'll be taking the bed but right now, I'm going to take a bath. Also, what are we doing for dinner? I'm starving!"

"We'll argue about this later... I'm going to cook us something. I don't feel like eating out again." He replied. "We should have enough food left."

She hummed in acknowledgement. She definitely didn't mind Steve Rogers cooking for her. They'd stayed together for missions before, sharing a bedroom, but there was always two beds. This was different, more intimate, and she was apprehensive about it all. She was already crushing on him like a teenage, school girl, and she needed to catch herself before she actually fell for him.

She went into the suite bedroom and shut the door behind her. She began to lift her dress over her head to take a bath, only to realize her mistake.

She was stuck. Really, fucking stuck.

Her arms were twisted around the small of her back, and her red, tight dress was bunched at her hips. She knew she should've just unzipped it to begin with, but she'd been longing to swiftly hop in the bathtub and unwind. The quickest option had been to tug it over her head, but it was also the witless option. She was supposed to be one of the best spies in the world, a stealth fighter and ex-Russian assassin. Now, she was hopping around the hotel bedroom, stuck in her dress, like an utter dumb-ass. "Дерьмо!" _[Shit!]_ She hissed as her arm began to cramp behind her shoulder.

She could hear Steve moving around in the kitchen of the suite, but she was too embarrassed to ask him for help, thinking that after a few more tugs and twists, she'd be able to get her arms free. He was sure to laugh at her predicament with that handsome smirk on his lips. Maybe he would even look her up and down, taking in her black, lace bra and panties with his azure eyes that she often found herself drowning in. Then again, he was an utter gentleman, and his eyes probably wouldn't stray from hers, even if she was naked. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't even get the damn thing over her head; it was to no avail. Her arm tightened even more, the muscle aching and throbbing with pain. She couldn't even reach the knife hidden in her bra to cut the dress off. She get out of handcuffs, ropes, zip ties... anything and everything but her own, damn dress.

She really had no other option...

"Steve!" She shouted in vexation.

She heard his footsteps approach the bedroom door, and she spoke again just before he turned the handle. "If you laugh, I will kill you, and I mean, actually kill you."

"What am I about to walk into?" He retorted, opening the door and stepping inside. He _almost_ laughed, slapping his hand over his mouth as he gaped at her.

"Get me out of this thing." She said dryly, trying not to show how mortified she was. She was grateful that she was with Steve however; she trusted him after everything they'd been through, and she spent more time with him than anyone else; they weren't just coworkers anymore. They were friends, but the lines of friendship were beginning to blur.

He walked towards her, a smile playing upon his lips. He didn't even seem to know where to start as he tried to unzip the dress and when it wouldn't budge, he tried to pull it over her head.

She couldn't see now, the fabric covering her eyes. She could hear his laughter even though he'd been trying hard to be silent, the way he grasped onto her as he bent over in a fit. He was lucky her arms were stuck, and she couldn't punch him in the jaw. "Rogers!" She snapped. "Quit acting like a child and get it together. This isn't that funny."

"It really is _that_ funny. You could've just asked me to unzip it in the first place, Tasha." He mused, tugging on the dress more as she tried wriggle her arms free.

No one had ever called her Tasha before; it was always Nat or Natasha. She liked the nickname coming from Steve's lips, the way it rolled off his tongue and sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers brushed across her shoulder as he tried to adjust the dress, and she couldn't help but sigh. "Are you going to call me Tasha from now on?" She grumbled, even though she wasn't actually annoyed with him.

He merely shrugged his broad shoulders in response, seemingly flushed that she acknowledged what he'd said. "I could just leave you here, you know. You're at my mercy." He retorted.

She knew he hadn't meant to sound voluptuous but that's how she heard it. _At his mercy._ She now wished that she'd asked him to unzip her dress in the first place. Maybe he would've kissed her like he did at Sam's a couple months ago, his hands caressing her body as their control slipped away, her core burning and his thick length pressing against her. Maybe his thick fingers would've curled inside her, followed by his tongue, and then him.

If only.

Now, there was nothing sexy about her as he tugged the dress over her head, fumbling with the zipper.

"You wouldn't dare, Captain." She countered.

Finally, she tugged her arms free, and he yanked the dress over her head. She moaned in relief and adjusted her bra, turning around and grabbing the towel on the bed.

"No. I wouldn't dare because then I'd have to sleep with one eye open." He said.

His eyes didn't leave hers as she stood in front of him in her bra and panties, unfolding the towel. She was a master at reading people, and she knew that he longed for her just like she desired him, ardor burning between them, the flames scalding and spreading. It embittered her, wishing he would just look at her body. He definitely would if she unhooked her bra, but she had more respect than that.

"Thanks, Captain." She said with a chaste wink.

His cheeks flushed with color, and he briefly cast his gaze down to his feet. "You're welcome." He murmured.

She laughed as he turned around and left the bedroom, returning to the kitchen to finish cooking as she sauntered into the bathroom. Now, if only he would've joined her in the bath...

She ran the hot water, filling it to the brim of the tub as she stripped from her bra and panties before settling into the bathtub. She sighed with relief as the water splashed around her, and she washed the hairspray from her scarlet locks and perfume from her skin, as well as the lingering scent of Steve's cologne. Once the water grew cold, she drained the tub and dried herself off. She didn't wipe the steam that fogged up the mirror as she brushed her hair and dressed into a pair of sweats. She didn't want to see her body, the scars reflecting in the mirror; the painful reminders of who she was - who she still was. The horrors would never fade. They said time would heal all wounds, but they never said anything about physiology wounds.

Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand - dinner. She couldn't get caught up in the tangles of her mind, not anymore. She'd pushed the affliction down for so long, and it was better left that way. She was better off not feeling anything: numb. 

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her Yankees sweatshirt, she walked into the kitchen of the suite where Steve was just finishing dinner. "Hungry?" He asked, although he already knew the answer. He turned to face her, handing her a water bottle as she leaned against the counter beside him. He was still in his white button down and suit pants, looking entirely tantalizing.

"Yes I'm hungry, so what's cooking, good lookin'?" She winked chastely, playing the flirty persona she'd perfected over the years of working for the Redroom. Steve used to flush and stutter at her coquetry but over the months, he'd grown used to it. An eye roll or laugh was his usual response, and this time was no different.

"Pasta." He replied with laughter, filling her plastic plate and then his own.

They ate at the counter together, and he began to discuss the logistics of the mission, but she paid no mind to him. The hotel room walls weren't soundproof, and she could hear the people next to them. It wasn't polite to snoop, but she was a spy after all. There was a child, giggling and squealing as the man Natasha assumed was her father tickled the young girl. Her heart clenched in her chest, but her attention was drawn away from the young girl's laughter when Steve touched the arch of her lower back.

"Nat, you okay?" He asked, drawing his hand away before she could even flinch away from him.

His eyes pierced hers as she looked up at him. "Yes, I'm just tired." She replied defensively, stepping back from him as if he'd scalded. Her appetite had quickly dissipated, and she threw away the full plate in the trash. "I'm going to head to bed." She said, grabbing a blanket from her bag and lying down on the couch, disregarding Steve's inquisitive stare from where he still stood in the kitchen.

"Just take the bed." He said exasperatedly.

She glared at him from where she lay on the couch, her eyes heavy and flaring with something that wasn't quite irritation. She knew that he perceived the look in her eyes, the sadness and the tiredness that sleep couldn't fix. He could read her like an open book, and she hated it. She couldn't hide anything from him. However, he didn't press her for more, and she was grateful that he didn't. He simply turned around and cleaned the kitchen while she mindlessly flicked through the television channels. Once he finished, he grabbed a blanket from his own bag and tossed it to her. She caught it with one hand and draped it over her. "Thanks." She mumbled.

"You let me know if you need anything, alright?" He said with one of his blonde eyebrows quirked.

"Yes, solider." She replied with the roll of her eyes, laying her head down on the couch pillow and watching the comedy movie on the screen. 

Steve hovered in the doorway of the suite bedroom, wanting to say something that he knew he probably shouldn't. He decided better and stepped inside the bedroom. "Goodnight..." He called over his shoulder before he softly closed the door.

She sighed, pulling Steve's blanket around her tightly and closing her eyes, blocking out the sound of the family in the room next to them.


	3. Love Was For Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For one of the very few times in her life, she felt childish, and love was for children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking place before Avengers: Age Of Ultron. I typically don't write fluffy stuff like this, but I had this cute idea and ran with it.

Natasha Romanoff knew that she should've never made that stupid bet with Tony Stark a week ago. Bets with the billionaire entrepreneur typically didn't end in her favor. They'd been in the kitchen waiting for Clint to finish his shower so they could go to dinner when Tony had made the wager. "I bet that you'll be needing Steve's help with the mission this weekend." Tony said with a sly smirk that should've told her she was going to lose. Yet, she pressed on.

"What's in it for me?" She frowned, glancing up at him from her phone. There had to be a catch... of course, she wouldn't be needing Roger's help. Sure, he was her partner, but Fury had given her a solo mission for a reason. Her boss knew her capabilities and if he thought she could complete the mission on her own, she would be able to. She never needed anyone's help with missions anyway. Although, help was nice to have when fighting dozens of men or even aliens.

He shrugged. "If you win, you can use my car for the next mission but if you lose, you wash my car when you get back." Tony replied.

Alright, that didn't sound like a bad deal. She was confident that she'd win and driving Tony's sports-car was always enjoyable. Maybe she'd take herself around the city or along the coast. "Hell, yeah. Shake on it, Stark." She said after a long pause and held out her hand, smiling concededly.

She'd lost because she hadn't needed Roger's help with the mission... she'd wanted it. He was the first person who came to her mind when she saw that she need to take out the guards and disable their technological missiles, which Fury hadn't considered. She couldn't be in two places at once, and it'd been instinctual to send a beacon signal to Steve before she realized her mistake. She'd lost Tony's bet, but she blamed Steve, really. If he wasn't so damn good at his job, if they weren't so good together as partners, she wouldn't have lost. Although, she was convinced Stark had planned the whole thing down to a T.

It really wasn't fair.

When she and Steve had returned to the towers, Tony was there waiting for them with his infamous smirk. She stepped off the Quinjet in front of Steve and huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. Tony held a small bucket filled with suds that spilled over the rim and thrust it at Natasha. "Let me change." She said sourly, shoving past him as she heard Steve ask Tony what was going on. She stalked up to her floor in the main building, tugging off her uniform and grumbling under her breath in Russian. She pulled on a pair of leggings and a black tee-shirt; Tony was presumably expecting the typical, pornstar carwash, but she wasn't going to give him any of that shit.

He was waiting for her in the garage when she went down to the lower level of the compound, his Lamborghini pulled out to the wash station. "It's not even dirty." She said, glaring at him.

"First of all, I don't care. Second of all, don't call her 'it'." Tony said, running his hand along the sports-car as if it was Pepper. "Where's your bathing suit?"

"You have a wife, so get out of here." She snapped, unwinding the hose and stretching out the kinks.

Tony huffed. "I want to watch this to make sure you don't scratch my baby."

She dropped the hose and spun around to glare at him. He was being utterly absurd. She still had a knife in her sports bra, and she would use it on him; she'd done it before. "Do you want the damn car cleaned or not?" She exclaimed. She expected him to contend with her, to maybe pull out a knife of his own (if Stark even carried knives). Instead, to her surprise and utter relief, he merely rolled his dark eyes and walked out of the garage. "Трахни тебя, Stark." _[Fuck you.]_ She mumbled under her breath.

She turned on the hose and rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. There were worse ways to be spending the afternoon although, it was a trivial task. She could debrief herself through the mission that her and Steve had successfully completed together. She hadn't needed him, _no_. She'd just become accustomed to working with him. He was her partner, and they worked together perfectly. He knew her every move, her every instinct, and her every thought just by glancing into her eyes. She knew his just the same. All she'd had to do was look at him to give him the signal to close in on the guards while she infiltrated their base...

She was honestly just fuming about losing to Tony.

She took her time to spray down the car, pouring soap into the bucket and swirling the sponge around in the water as she hummed to herself. It was one of her favorite songs, La Vie En Rose. She had faint memories of her mother singing to her - ones that she'd cherish forever. She vividly recalled her and Yelena lying in bed as their mother stroked their hair, her melodic voice echoing through the small room. Their father would often come in just as they were drifting off to sleep, brushing an adoring kiss across their foreheads. 

Her contemplation was swiftly interrupted when the side door of the garage open, and she stopped humming when she heard heavy footsteps on the tile floors. She ran the sponge over the front bumper as she glanced up to see Steve walking in.

"So, I heard you lost a bet to Stark." He smiled. He'd evidently showered - his blonde hair tousled and damp, dressed in a tee along with a pair of sweats. She saw the outline of his thick length, and her breath hitched in her throat. He looked criminally handsome and for a brief moment, she thought of the kiss they'd shared at Sam's. A delicious shiver went up her spine as she envisaged his hands caressing her tone body, his husky voice whispering her name like a prayer. She had to swiftly block out the memory before he perceived the way her pupils had dilated.

Looking away, she pursed her lips. "Don't rub it in." She retorted.

He chuckled, grabbing another sponge from the shelf and walking over to the car. He dipped it into the bucket and splattered soap on the part of the sunroof that she couldn't quite reach.

"What are you doing?" She asked. It was obvious... the question was actually _why_.

"You lost because I helped with the mission. I've got to make it up to you so you won't kill me in my sleep tonight." He replied with a handsome smirk. The soap dripped down his muscular arm, following the thick veins on his forearm.

She swallowed thickly and sighed, dunking her sponge into the bucket again before working on cleaning the windows. "Aw, Captain. You're making me feel bad but seriously, go upstairs and relax. Old men need their naps." She said. It was her way of thanking him, trying to disdain the way her heart thrummed and skipped a beat. Although, the silence had been nice, she'd much banter back and forth with Steve as she actually enjoyed his company. She could spend days with him and never tire of his kind smiles and gentle touches.

He shook his head, flicking the sponge at her. A splash of water landed on her cheek, and she glared at him as she wiped it away. "You deserved that one." He retorted.

She rolled her emerald eyes. "Alright, so you've gotten your payback..." She mumbled, deciding that she'd let it slide.

"Not yet." He said, flicking the sponge at her again as he shifted closer to her.

She took a step back from him, wiping her face again. "You're pushing your luck." She snapped, vexation brewing in her core.

He did it again and then grabbed the bucket of suds. "Am I now, Romanoff?" He said with a quirked eyebrow.

She bolted to the other side of the car, grabbing the hose and turning on the nozzle as she caught on to what he was hinting at. "Wanna' play a game?" She smirked, the irritation she'd felt swiftly dissipating.

It was so on.

He laughed, evidently remembering what she'd said as she activated the computer simulation of Dr. Arnim Zola that'd nearly gotten them blown up. "Y-e-s spells yes." He replied just like she had years ago.

She ran at him, but the hose didn't reach all the way around the car, and she gasped as he threw the bucket of soapy water on her. She was drenched, her clothes plastered to her body as droplets of water ran down her face. At least she'd taken off her makeup. "You're going down, Rogers!" She shouted, spraying the hose at him until he was as soaked as she was.

He leapt at her and tried to grab the nozzle, but she sprayed him in the face, forcing him to step back. "You're going to drown me!" He proclaimed with laughter.

"You deserve it." She replied, spraying him again.

He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and wrestling the hose from her hands. She squealed in the most effeminate way possible as he lifted her off the ground and over his broad shoulder, aiming the water up at her. She could've writhed out of his hold, but she was laughing too hard, grasping onto his arms as he swung her around. "I'm dizzy!" She giggled breathlessly as the room began to spin. It was like a scene out of those romantic comedies Maria loved to watch; they were acting childish and entirely clique, but she couldn't find the will to care. For one of the very few times in her life, she felt childish, and love was for children.

He finally set her down, holding onto the hose as she tried to snatch it from him. "You think you're so slick..." He jested, turning his back to her as she reached around his waist for the nozzle again.

"You two are something else."

They froze when they heard Tony's voice and looked back at him in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched them with a knowing smirk.

"This ain't over, Rogers." Natasha laughed breathlessly before she picked up her sponge again. She eyed him warily, walking around to the other side of the car. She made sure to sway her hips more than usual, perceiving Steve's gaze darken as his eyes momentarily shifted from hers and pride swelled in her core.

"No, it's not, Natasha." He said huskily.

She had a feeling he wasn't just talking about washing the car. Whatever was between them definitely wasn't over... it was just getting started.


	4. No Matter The Precedence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers knows that no one, not even Natasha Romanoff, can be strong all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Matter The Precedence takes place before Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Steve Rogers quickly thumbed through the dozens of Project Insight files on the desk. There were piles and piles of files everywhere; on the surrounding desks, the floor around his feet, and even on the shelves behind him. He wasn't even sure where to begin, but Natasha seemed to know. "Look in the drawers, Rogers. Secret files are usually hidden in compartments that are in the back." She said to him as she leaned over the computer beside him, disabling the technological alarms that were blaring throughout the building.

He glanced up at her. For a moment, he watched the way her dazzling, emerald eyes looked over the computer screen, her thin fingers typing on the keyboard quickly even though she was pristinely calm. There was something about her that was enrapturing. It wasn't just her beautiful features or her sublime body. It was entirely _Natasha_ , her determination, her refinement, and her bravery.

From the moment he met her, he'd been allured by everything that was Natasha Romamoff. It augmented significantly as time went on, and they'd became partners. He knew her as more than a colleague now; as the woman who took his breath away with one glance and blew his mind with a simple kiss on an escalator.

Well, technically two kisses.

"Focus. We have two more minutes!" She snapped at him, perceiving him staring at her.

Flush rose to his cheeks, and he swiftly began to look through the files again. He pulled apart every drawer, cracking the wood and trying to find any hidden compartment or clues for where one was. The entire mission from Fury was to find these specific papers and verify that Project Insight was entirely abated. This was their only chance to do so after successfully breaking into the government building, and Fury wouldn't be happy if they returned to headquarters empty handed.

"Thirty more seconds." Natasha warned him as she glanced at her watch.

The time passed quickly, but he found the papers just in time. The gunshots began exactly thirty seconds later as Natasha had warned, ricocheting off the walls and whizzing past their heads. He quickly shoved the papers into the bag that was slung over his shoulder and grabbed his shield. Natasha ducked down beside him behind the desk, pressing into his side as he covered them from the bullets. "Could've given me a warning." He shouted over the gunshots that made his ears ring.

She rolled her eyes and pressed closer to him as he wrapped his arm around them, the shield braced in front of them as bullets _clanged_ off the Vibranium. It wasn't exactly an appropriate situation, but he relished in the feeling of her thin frame against his large one. It just felt right despite the fact that people were trying to kill them. It felt right to hold her against him, to protect her like it was his only purpose in life. He knew it was wrong, that Natasha didn't desire him like he longed for her, but he'd always followed his heart, and this time was no different.

She glanced at him sharply before she began retaliating with fire from two handguns she pulled from her waistband, shooting over the desk as bullets hit the wall behind them. "Sorry. I was busy trying to keep us from getting blown up by bombs!" She retorted sarcastically. "Care to get us out of here now?" She said as she ducked back down beside him, the guns drawn back to her chest and her index fingers on the triggers.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and situated his shield so it covered them both. It was a move that they practiced often, something he knew as her partner, and it was something that was almost as easy as breathing. She hooked her arm around his neck, continuing to fire her guns as they ran from the room together and quickly made their way to the planned escape route. It was an underground tunnel that he and Natasha had spent the majority of the night mapping out. Surely the government knew about it, but the winding shafts would give them enough time to get to the car Fury had waiting for them in the city.

They quickly reached the vent outside the room that led to the tunnel as bullets bounced off his shield around them, hitting the drywall and splintering the wood framing of the building. He yanked the cement grate off the wall, and she climbed inside with him trailing closely behind her. It was a tight squeeze, her back pressed to his chest as he bent down so he could fit without hitting his head on the pipes. He could feel every curve of her beautiful body, and every weapon she'd hidden in her ensemble. He tried to think of everything else but that. Everything else but the way she felt in his arms, his hands on her body, and her lips on his as she straddled him in Sam's guest bedroom. Everything but the way her smile tugged at his heartstrings and vitality coursed through his veins.

However, he found that was all he could think about.

He just hoped that she wouldn't realize what he was thinking about with his front pressed to her back. He sighed, clearing his head and adjusting his shield behind his shoulder. As he did so, he hit his head on the tunnel and groaned softly as an ache flourished in his temple. He heard her snicker as she led the way through the winding tunnels. "You should've worn the helmet, Captain." She retorted. He didn't bother responding; she was right, after all. He should've brought it, but he'd left it behind at base. 

He heard the government agents shout behind them and the sound of their boots against the cement of the tunnel... they were found, and he and Natasha needed to make a fast getaway. The gunshots ensued, and Steve shoved Natasha against the wall, pressing against her. It was instinctive to protect her, to cover her no matter what the consequences were. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she got hurt. He told himself it was simply because she was his partner, but he knew it was much more than that. When the agents took a moment to reload their guns, he shoved Natasha ahead of him, and they ran to the end of the tunnel that led out to the city.

"You don't always have to protect me. I've taken a bullet before; taken quite a few actually." She said, taking a step back as he slammed his shield against the grate leading into the alleyway so they could escape.

He broke the concrete drain and followed her into the bright sunlight that beamed down on the city. "I'd always take a bullet for my partner." He said, shielding his eyes as the sun beamed down on them. Digging out the keys from the bag, he unlocked the red Chevy that Fury had parked for them in the alley as a getaway car. He opened the passenger door for Natasha before getting into the drivers seat, starting the engine, and peeling away from the curb.

"We need to change. These windows aren't tinted." She said. She quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, climbing over the center counsel and into the backseat. She dug through their overnight bag, pulling out a pair of clothes and disarming herself, laying her knifes and guns out in the backseat.

He frowned, glancing back at her in the rear view mirror. "Tell me we're not going undercover again." He chuckled, recalling the first time they were evading S.H.I.E.L.D agents, who were actually involved with Hydra. The only good thing that'd arisen from that was finding out Bucky was alive and kissing Natasha.

"No. We just need to find a place to lay low. It's too risky to go back to headquarters right now." She replied. "Find a hotel, not something fancy, but not a dingy motel either."

He hummed in acknowledgement. She was much better at this job than he would ever be. She could undoubtedly do it without him; he just considered himself her muscle, and she was the brains of the entire operation.

He heard the zipper of her cat suit and glanced back to see her stripping in the backseat. "What the hell, Romanoff?" He exclaimed, quickly turning around and gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He'd caught a glimpse of her creamy skin, the swell of her breasts clasped in her bra and the slope of her slender shoulders. The car suddenly felt very hot, and he cranked up the air conditioning as heat pooled into his core. He longed to hear her moan as his lips sucked on that spot under her jaw that made her toes curl; to feel her nails dig into his shoulder blades. All he wanted to do was pull the car over and kiss her, even though there were people out to kill them.

"Seriously? It's not like you haven't seen a woman body's before. You're fucking Sharon, anyway." She replied sourly. She was an expert liar and world class spy. There were times when he couldn't fathom what she was thinking, but then there were times when he looked into her eyes and could read her like an open book. Even though he wasn't looking into her eyes, he perceived the hurt in her voice, and the animosity burned him.

"Tasha, I'm not sleeping with Sharon." He said, feeling the need to affirm that he only had eyes for her. He was convinced that their kisses, playful banter, and brazen touches meant more to him than they ever did to her, but he still longed to call her his, to kiss her whenever he wanted and to wake up with her in his arms. He longed for the moments she'd never want, but maybe she did want some of those moments if the tone of her voice said anything about how she felt.

She rolled her eyes at his response like she didn't believe him, slipping on a hoodie as she tugged off the rest of her dark, midnight suit.

He could hardly believe that she was changing in the backseat as he sped down the highway.

"I told you to call her." She said.

"I did. Actually took her out a few times, but we didn't really connect." He murmured.

Sharon was nice - pretty - but she wasn't Natasha. It wasn't fair to compare them but that's what he found himself doing. Sharon wasn't the beautiful red-head who had the guts to slam him to the ground and then make his heart pound against his ribcage with a mere smile.

Natasha grasped onto his seat, peering at him from the back. "Is there another woman whose caught Steve Roger's eye?" She jested.

"Maybe there is." He said with a wink. He was being brazen, unusually bold but after kissing her at Sam's, spraying her with a hose while washing Tony's car, and falling victim to her seduction, he wasn't as reticent around her anymore.

He heard her sharp inhale, the way she quickly ducked back behind the seats and finished changing. "Боже, черт его побери." _[God, damn him.]_ She mumbled quietly.

He took the exit to the east side of the city, and she crawled up to sit in the passenger seat with the Project Insight papers in her hand. "What did you say?" He asked, glancing at her with a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as she settled back down in the passenger seat.

"It's a secret." She smirked before pointing out a small hotel. "Here... that'll do."

He pulled into the parking lot, reaching into the backseat for his own hoodie and sweatpants that he pulled on over his uniform. "I'm going to learn Russian and then, you won't be able to talk behind my back." He mused before they got out of the car together and made their way into the hotel lobby. He'd actually started to learn her native language so he could eventually inveigle her, but she didn't know that yet. He was convinced that he would never be able to impress Natasha Romanoff no matter how hard he tried however, if was able to make her cheeks flush, he'd take it as a win.

"Put your arm around me. Pretend to be my husband." She mumbled under her breath, stepping closer to him as they approached the desk. "And keep your mouth shut."

"I'm having a flashback." He chuckled lowly, hooking an arm around her shoulder. She jabbed her elbow into his side at his retort, but he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He let his lips linger on her skin, inhaling the sweet smell of her perfume and relishing in having her so close to him. "Okay, honey." He said loud enough for the desk clerk to hear. For her, it was an act; for him, it wasn't.

The older woman evidently didn't recognize either Steve nor Natasha as she booked a room for them and handed over the key. As soon as they were in the suite and the door was locked behind them, Natasha called Fury as Steve took a short shower to scrub the dirt and soot off him. When he walked out of the bathroom, he saw that Natasha was asleep at the kitchen table, slumped over the papers she'd been scrutinizing.

He smiled, his heart thrumming in his chest.

He adored her, everything she did and everything about her.

Carefully sliding his arm around the back of her knees and cradling her torso, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He heard her moan softly, feeling her hand grasp his sweatshirt as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. She stole the breath from his lungs without even trying, and his heart soared at the way she sought comfort in him. He set her down on the bed, gently prying her fingers from his sweatshirt and pulling the blanket over her. He gazed at her for a moment, marveling at her before he leaned down and kissed her cheek. He just couldn't help himself; he'd been wanting to do that for a while now.

He sat down at the table, reading through the files of Project Insight and noting relevant paragraphs. Just as he turned to the third page, he heard Natasha groan and roll over in the sheets. He glanced back at her, wondering if she was waking up, but she appeared to still be sleeping. Just as he turned back to the files, he heard her gasp and the distinct thud of her arm hitting the nightstand.

He stood quickly, knowing that she was having a nightmare. He'd never seen her have one before, but they all did. He had them as well... PTSD came with their job as Avengers and their dark histories.

He rushed over to her, grasping her shoulders as she fought against him. "Sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe." He said, gently shaking her and rousing her from the dark reminisce of her past.

She finally opened her eyes, gazing up at him. The sorrowful look in her emerald orbs broke his heart in two.

She shoved him away, pulling the blanket around her and quickly looking away from him. "I'm fine." She said shortly.

She wasn't.

He understood what she was going through, how hard it was to recover from nightmares and flashbacks. "You don't have to be strong all the time. None of us can be, not even you. Although, you are the strongest woman I've ever known." He said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his broad chest even as she fought against him.

He could feel her trembling, her strength waining as she regained her whereabouts. Finally, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she clutched onto him. "I'm fine." She said again in a mere whisper, her breath fanning over his skin, sending a shiver up his spine.

"I know you are." He murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. He sat down beside her, drawing her close to him. "Sometimes, I just need an excuse to hold you."

He heard her laugh softly as her fingertips brushed across the nape of his neck. Goosebumps ghosted across his skin, and he sighed, closing his eyes.

He wished that he didn't have to have an excuse to hold her.

She shifted in his arms, splaying her toned thighs on either side of him as she pressed closer to him. "You know, the KGB used to handcuff us to the bed at night because some of us had such violent nightmares?" She murmured out of the blue.

He rubbed small, soothing circles on her back as she begun to spill her darkest secrets that she'd never told anyone, ones that could never be uttered in daylight. She talked of those she'd killed and tortured, and those who'd tortured and raped her; those who'd left her alone and those she'd left to die. He listened to her every word without judgement. He simply admired her strength, her drive to do good in world that'd done her so wrong.

When she was quiet, after she'd irrevocably opened up to him and told her about past, he laid down and curled around her protectively, even though they were safe for the time being. He pressed a kiss to her soft hair as she grasped his hand, entangling their fingers. He disregarded the sparks between them as her palm pressed against his. He convened on her entirely, paying no mind to the romantic feelings he felt. She needed him as a friend, as someone who would hold her through the aftermath of devastation. He was determined to be that person for her, someone she could always come to no matter the precedences.

"Thank you." She mumbled tiredly, sliding her leg between his and moving even closer to him.

"For what?" He asked.

"For everything."


	5. So Far Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere through the rough missions, mistakes, and conflicting feelings, she'd found her place in his arms, in his tender kisses, and in his soft whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Far Gone takes place before Avengers: Age Of Ultron.

Letting the red wine roll across her tongue, Natasha inhaled through her nose and closed her eyes as she titled her head back against the couch. The leather stuck uncomfortably to her toned thighs, and she tugged on her spandex underneath her oversized sweatshirt that was actually Steve's. Her and Pepper had been enjoying their movie night until Tony, Sam, and Bruce had come home tipsy from bar-hopping and joined them in the living room of the Avengers Tower. They were loud and ever so vexing, making Natasha wonder how Pepper dealt with Tony every, single night.

When Bruce sauntered into the living room, his dark eyes dazed and his words slurred, he had immediately sat beside Natasha, splaying his arm over the back of the couch behind her. He enkindled conversation as the other two men bustled around the kitchen and then came into the living room a few minutes later, lying down on the floor beside one another.

The last thing Natasha really wanted to do was talk to Bruce Banner, especially as Harry Potter was playing on the television. Over the past few weeks, he was constantly flirting with her, but she only had eyes for the one man who she could never have... _Steve Rogers_. She knew he was avoiding the discord in his bedroom or the gym; drawing, reading, working out... doing whatever Steve Rogers did on his days off.

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

She set down her wine glass and reached for her phone on the table. As she did so, she felt Bruce's fingers brush through her crimson hair. She abided the urge to punch him as she pulled up Steve's contact and texted him.

 _Natasha_ : SOS. Need help in the living room... going to die

 _Steve_ : What's wrong

 _Natasha_ : Guess who just sat down beside me?

 _Steve_ : Your hulk of a man Bruce

 _Natasha_ : Haha such a funny pun. Not. 😒 He's your man, not mine Rogers. So please come save me

 _Steve_ : Only if you give me a bag of those Russian candies you brought back

 _Natasha_ : Are you serious? I only have two bags left!

 _Steve_ : You're on your own then. Give him a kiss for me 😘

 _Natasha_ : Ugh fine. You can half of a bag if you come right now

 _Steve_ : Dunno how you expect me to save you but okay. On my way

She smiled to herself and set down her phone.

"What are you smirking about?" Pepper asked curiously. She slid off her chair and sat down on the floor beside Tony, brushing her husband's hair from his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

She merely shrugged, adjusting Steve's sweatshirt as it slipped off her shoulder and popped another piece of sweet candy into her mouth. It was a few minutes later when he came into the living room, taking in the amusing scene of Tony and Sam lying on the floor with Pepper, and Bruce sitting closely beside Natasha on the couch. His beautiful, azure eyes met hers, his soft lips curving up in a smile that made her breath hitch in her throat. She found herself drowning in his eyes, her pulse spiking as he took her in. He was just so handsome, perfect in every way, and she relished in the way he looked at her like no one ever had before.

She was _so_ far gone for him.

Falling so far down, but she wasn't sure if he'd be there to catch her.

"I was looking for that sweatshirt, Nat." He said teasingly as he came into the living room and sat down in the chair across from the couch.

She rolled her emerald eyes, knowing that he covertly liked when she wore his shirts. She was a spy after all, trained to read people. She shifted forward again to grab more candy however, as she did so, Steve lunged forward and took the bag off the table. "Steve!" She exclaimed as he shoved pieces candy into his mouth.

"You said I can have half a bag." He quipped.

She got off the couch and tried to snatch the bag from him, stepping over Tony and Sam on the floor. He held them just out of her reach, laughing as she climbed on top of him in the chair. "You are going to eat them all!" She shouted irritably.

He ate another mouthful before she was able to grab the bag from him. "God, stop it." She huffed in exasperated vexation. He chuckled huskily, shifting in the chair as she sat down beside him and tucked herself into his side so they could both fit. She didn't want to get up, but she knew it wasn't appropriate for colleagues - not even friends - to sit so close to one another. Although, he didn't seem to want her to get up either as he put his arm around her shoulder and rested his hand on her lower thigh.

A delicious shiver went up her spine as his fingers mindlessly caressed her skin. The vitality between them was extraordinary potent, a simple touch kindling so many emotions. She tried not to get caught up in them all, but it was hard not to. He knew her better than she even knew herself, and she trusted him more than she trusted herself. Somewhere through the rough missions, mistakes she had made, and conflicting feelings she felt, she found her place in his strong arms, in his tender kisses, and in his soft whispers. The entire situation was complicated, too complicated, for her to try and figure out, but all she really longed for was more than forty-eight, uninterrupted hours with him.

Her contemplation was swiftly hindered when he reached for the bag of candy again.

"Share with me." He mumbled, looking down at her when she jerked it away.

She hesitated before she placed the bag in his lap so they could both reach it. "You're so needy." She teased.

She could feel Bruce's piercing glare on them, jealously rolling off him in waves, but she ignored him and directed her attention back to the movie.

It was quiet for about thirty-seconds.

"So, is this what you two do when I send you on missions, and it takes twice as long as we planned?" Tony asked as he sat up from the floor and looked at Steve and Natasha.

"Yeah, it is." Sam replied. "I act like I don't notice when they sneak into each other's hotel rooms to watch movies all night or do God knows what..."

"Says the one who came to Paris drunk with Maria..." Natasha smirked, recalling the time when her friend from S.H.I.E.L.D had stumbled into the suite with Sam, singing and clinging onto one another like drunken fools. They'd spent the following day nursing hangovers while Steve and Natasha had completed the mission on their own.

Sam sat up swiftly. "That was one time!"

Steve chuckled. "And then in Spain..."

"Oh, I forgot about that one." Natasha said as she sat up and grabbed her glass of wine. She took a small sip, but the chill had faded, and it was no longer delectable. She went to get up from the chair, but Steve placed a hand on her shoulder and stood up instead.

"What were you drinking?" He asked.

She smiled gratefully, handing him the glass. He was so damn selfless - she didn't deserve him. "Can I actually have a beer?" She said.

He nodded, stepping over Tony and heading into the kitchen.

She knew that she shouldn't mix her liquor, but it was harder to get drunk with the facsimile super-serum coursing through her veins.

"Okay, but you are always all over each other. I want to cheer Steve on because maybe he'll get laid but at the same time, I don't want to think about you two having sex." Tony said with an impish smirk. "Steve... when was the last time you got laid? Or even kissed a woman?"

"When was the last time Natasha even kissed someone for enjoyment? Not just to seduce them so she could kill them?" Tony chimed in.

Natasha scoffed, throwing a piece of candy at Tony that hit him in the eye. "Ow!" He shouted.

The only time she'd kissed someone just to kiss them was Steve. She didn't hook up nor did she ever go on dates. Her past - her fear - didn't let her. However, she longed to know what it felt like with Steve. _With only him._ She longed to feel human and normal.

She'd never really felt that before...

"I know they've kissed in my guest bedroom, and it would've gone a hell of a lot further if I hadn't walked in on them." Sam said before he quickly got up, expecting Natasha to retaliate against him.

She was about to until Steve came back into the living room with her beer. He met her eyes momentarily, flush rising into his cheeks as Sam alluded to their passionate kiss. It was the only time she'd felt venerated, utterly desired yet respected. She knew that she had a nice body and feminine features; she wouldn't have graduated from the Red Room if she didn't. However, she was used, damaged, by the men who'd raped her as a young girl, lusting after her body; she was never seen as more than a pretty face or a weapon to be used and put away. Steve was the only man who didn't lust after her body. Sure, he desired her, but he saw her as beautiful, even at the lowest points of her life, when she was afflicted from a night terror, even after he'd seen her scars and watched her kill people.

Even after she'd told him about her past.

She stood from the chair to make room for Steve, and Sam quickly stumbled from the floor and left the living room. She smirked at his reaction as Steve sat down, and she tucked herself back into his side and sipped at her beer. "Sam, I'd sleep with an eye open tonight." She called after him, not exactly denying the fact that she had made out with Steve. She'd told Pepper and Clint about it; Tony and Bruce were the only ones who hadn't known.

Tony began to stand and Pepper did as well, helping her drunk husband to his feet. "I'm leaving now, and I'm going to make love to my wife to get that thought of Cap-sicle out of my mind." Tony quipped.

Pepper rolled her eyes as she bid them all goodnight, taking Tony's hand and leading him to the elevator.

Bruce stood as well, leaving the living room and joining Sam in the kitchen.

It was just Natasha and Steve now, the movie casting shadows across his handsome face. She didn't recall her eyes fluttering closed, her head rolling back onto Steve's arm as she fell asleep before Harry Potter even freed Sirius Black from the prison cell. When she woke up, she was still on the chair with Steve, lying in his lap with her legs dangling over the armrest. He seemed to be sound asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily as the television played infomercials. His arm was an heavy weight across her hips, but she stealthily slid out from his grasp without waking him.

As much as she would love to fall back asleep in his arms, she knew that they already crossed too many lines. She needed to get ahold of herself. She was supposed to be polished perfection and nothing less.

Grabbing a blanket from the closet, she draped it over him. As she did so, she noticed the sketchbook on the floor beside the chair, and she presumed he must've gotten up at some point while she'd slept. Curiosity got the best of her, and she flipped through the pages. She'd seen his drawings before; he was amazing - surpassingly brilliant actually - and she admired his work. However, she'd never seen these sketches before. They were their teammates, remarkably detailed and captivating. When she came across a charcoal drawing of herself, her breath hitched in her throat, and she clutched onto the edges of the book.

The drawing was breathtaking. It was her smiling, her chin tilted and her eyes cast up. She wasn't sure where she was or what she was smiling about... she just looked so beautiful, carefree, and happy. She traced her fingers over the careful lines and notable details of her face. She wondered if this was how he saw her because she definitely didn't see herself this way.

Taking one last look at the drawing, she put the sketchbook back as if she hadn't flipped through it. She couldn't stop herself as she leaned over him in the chair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was soft against her lips, and she smiled to herself.

"Goodnight, Steve." She whispered before she turned around. She didn't look back at him as she walked to the elevator.

If she would have, she would've seen Steve open his eyes and smile.


	6. Begin’ For Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only woman strong enough to defeat Steve Rogers was Natasha Romanoff. However, she didn't even have to use her combat skills to have him begging for mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beggin' for Mercy takes place during Avengers: Age of Ultron right after they take down the HYDRA base but before Ultron makes his appearance. I refuse to acknowledge the forced and frankly, dumb romance (#sorrynotsorry) between Bruce Banner and Natasha. So the romance is entirely centered around her and Steve (the way it should've been).

Forty-eight hours after returning to the Avengers Tower, Steve Rogers was back to working out in the training center while the others relished in their victory. The mission had been a success - they'd infiltrated the Hydra base in Sokovia, they'd found Loki's Sceptor, and they'd all returned home safely. However, Steve was still on edge as his stomach churned with apprehension. It was as if something was horribly wrong, an impending doom of sorts. It was the kind of feeling he hated but couldn't disregard. However, he couldn't do anything about it. How was he even supposed to tell the others that something was amiss when he didn't even know what was? So, all he could do was try to relax in the only way he knew how. By completely and utterly exhausting himself.

He slammed his fist against the punching bag. Over and over again. Harder and harder. The chains strained against the ceiling, swinging violently. He knew they were about to snap, but he didn't care; Tony Stark had all the money in the world to replace the equipment anyway.

_Crack. Crack. Crack._

The ceiling began to crumble around him like snowflakes falling from the sky, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. The ominous feeling wasn't going away. His mind was in a whirl, and his heart was pounding.

_Snap!_

The chains broke, and the punching bag crumbled to the floor along with drywall from the ceiling above his head. He stepped back, glaring at the broken equipment with his fists still clenched, and his chest heaving. He still wasn't tired enough or satisfied with his workout even though sweat dripped down his chiseled chest, and his unwrapped hands trembled ever so slightly, blood trickling between his knuckles and down his wrists.

"Stand down, solider. What did that punching bag ever do to you?"

Natasha.

He sighed heavily and looked at the beautiful, fiery red-head standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. He had a feeling she'd been watching him for a while, and he just hadn't noticed her. She wore a pair of black leggings and a tee-shirt, her beautiful features free of makeup. She evidently had not been drinking with the other Avengers, and he wondered why she'd even came down to the training center. She wasn't dressed to work out. She was watching him with her captivating, emerald eyes, and her lips were turned up in the notorious smirk that drove him crazy. For a moment, he was able to omit his angst, captivated by Natasha entirely.

He was undeniably attracted to her just like every man who ever laid eyes on the Black Widow. However, he'd been one of the lucky ones to kiss her, twice actually. He'd been lucky enough to hold her in his arms and feel her body pressed against his. _Damn_ , if he didn't think about her in ways he knew he shouldn't think about his partner.

He usually had a jesting comeback to her quips but this time, silence was his response. He simply turned around, hauling the punching bag over his shoulder and setting it aside to be thrown out.

She stepped inside the training center and walked across the padded floors past him. She grabbed a towel from the rack and continued to the sparing mat. She slipped between the ropes and stood in the middle, looking at Steve. "Let me kick your ass for a few minutes." She said. It was as if she knew what he was feeling. She probably did; she could read him like an open book. Although, her words were playful, she regarded him heedfully with her verdant eyes. He could never lie to her or even try to conceal his sentiment. She knew him too well.

He couldn't help but chuckle, and he joined her inside the ring.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" She asked. She reached out and grasped his hands in her small ones, rubbing his hands with the towel. The bleeding had already stopped due to his enhanced heeling from the super-serum, and he felt no pain. All he could feel was Natasha's thin fingers on his skin, her touch kindling vestige that sparked in his core and caused his cheeks to flush.

Once she was done, she threw the towel to the side and stepped back from him, spreading her legs slightly and bracing herself for the spar.

"Nothing is wrong." He shrugged even though it was a blatant lie. He wished she would've continued to hold his hands just a little longer, allowing him to omit his angst.

He wiped his hands on his sweatpants and waited for her to make the first move. She always did. He and Natasha trained together the most often. She was his partner, the one he knew better than himself, and the one he trusted most. His strength complimented her stealth, and they moved together like the beat to his favorite song... she was his favorite song, after all - the one he would never tire of and could listen to all day.

"You're going to tell me, ya-know." She humphed, suddenly stepping back from him and dropping her hands at her side.

He thought she was going to argue with him instead of spar. His guard was down, and she took full advantage of that like she was trained to do. Lunging forward, she hooked her leg around the back of his knee before landing a punch on the arch of his jaw. _Ouch_ , that hurt. "Romanoff, you're a witch." He declared. He tried to grasp her arm and yank her forward, but she quickly ducked out of his reach. He was strong and ample, but she was fast and stealthy.

She smirked, running her tongue along her plump bottom lip as she stepped towards him. His blood rushed south as he looked at her lips, and he was distracted again. She knew how much she affected him, how much he longed for her. Sometimes she would catch him staring at her, and sometimes he would catch her doing the same. They were both cognizant of the way their touches would linger, the way he would slowly let go of her after using his shield to protect them. The entire situation was complicated and acting on their ardor for one another would only complicate things more.

However, he wasn't about to lose just because she licked her lips.

So, he pushed his ardor for her out of his mind, and it was game on.

She landed a punch to his left side but this time, he was ready. Grasping her arms, he held them behind her back and kicked her legs out from underneath her. He caught her fall, and she hit the mat softly; he released her arms and drew back from her although, he held her wrists in his hands gently.

"You're holding back. You never brace my falls." She growled, glaring up at him as he pinned her. "What the hell is wrong, Steve?"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. She was so fierce and so incredibly stubborn. It was one of the things he loved about her. "I'm tired, Nat. Give me a break." He said. He let go of her wrists, and she sat up. He thought that they were done, that she would let it go for now, and they could talk like normal people. However this was Natasha Romanoff. She wasn't like other women, and she definitely didn't 'let things go.'

Well, maybe she was like women in _that_ way.

Wrapping her shapely legs around his thighs, she shoved him down onto the mat and straddled him as she pinned his arms above his head. He could've effortlessly pushed her off him, but he was right where he wanted to be. He had the perfect view of her.

"If I can't beat it out of you, I suppose I'll have to do it another way." She said thickly.

"What's that suppo-," His breath hitched in his throat as she released his wrists and dragged her small hands down the broad expanse of his sweaty chest. Her dark eyelashes fluttered as she gazed down at him, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she pressed her core into his. _Shit!_ He couldn't move, enraptured with her and the feeling of her body atop of his. "Natasha." He grunted, trying sit up. "Are you out of your mind?"

She was trying to seduce him, and it was working.

She pushed him back down on the mat, leaning over him. Her hips ground against his, and he closed his eyes. He was instantly hard, his thick, long length rubbing right against her core. She was surely going to be the death of him. It was taking every once of his control not to tear her leggings apart and fuck her just like he'd envisaged. Just like he should've done before Sam interrupted them months ago.

"Tell me, solider. What are you thinking about?" She whispered.

Her lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and his hands instinctively grasped her waist. He could bring down a helicopter yet he couldn't muster the strength to push her off him. "Nat. I s-swear..." He wasn't even sure what to say. He could hardly remember his own name. All he could think about was the woman of his dreams sitting astride him.

"Start begging, милая'." _[Honey.]_ She spoke sensually.

He had no idea what she'd said; he didn't speak Russian all that well as he was still learning. However, it turned him on even more. Her thick accent, the roll of her tongue and the purse of her lips. With every second that ticked by, the desire to spread her legs and make her cum until she was screaming his name grew stronger. "Please, Tasha." He growled lowly. What else was he supposed to do besides beg? That's what she told him to do, after all. Who was he to deny her? He tried to sit up again, but she pushed him down. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned closer to him.

Then closer and even _closer_.

Her perfect, oh-so kissable lips hovered above his. "Tell me." She purred, her warm breath fanning over his lips.

Suddenly, JARVIS came over the intercom, startling both Steve and Natasha. "Mr. Rogers, Tony Stark is asking for your presence in the main living room on the 45th floor." The android said.

Steve swiftly gathered his bearings and suddenly stood up. Natasha was forced off him, and she looked up at him from where she sat on the mat. "Don't do that again." He snapped at her.

She laughed, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh, Steve. You're so innocent. Did a cat get your tongue?" She mused. She'd made him beg for mercy without even using her combat skills. It'd all started with a whisper, and he was powerless against her.

"No, a spider did." He shook his head, wondering if being at her mercy was really that bad.


	7. Dance With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He learned Russian just to sweet-talk her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dance With Me takes place during Avengers: Age of Ultron before Ultron makes his appearance. I refuse to acknowledge the (forced and frankly, dumb romance #sorrynotsorry) between Bruce Banner and Natasha. So the romance is entirely centered around her and Steve (the way it should've been).

Tony Stark's celebration was in full swing, but Natasha wasn't one for crowds. The noise, the drinking, the bright lights, the shouting... there were too many people, and it was too overwhelming for her. She promised Tony that she'd, at least, make an appearance and hopefully catch the eye of a certain captain with her curled, crimson hair and a flattering skirt, but she didn't plan to stay long.

She still couldn't believe that she'd tried to seduce him a few days ago in the training center. In the end, she'd only left herself entirely vexed. His body was like a work of art, every dip and ridge of his frame, the curve of his lips and his flawless facial structure. The feeling of his length pressed against her core was utterly enthralling, his muscles flexing with every movement and his heartbeat pounding under the palms of her hands as she gazed down at him... she'd wanted to kiss him then and there, even though anyone could've walked in on them.

The Red Room had specifically taught her how to seduce men, how to bring them to their knees before pressing a knife to their throat and getting imperative information. Control was at the center of it all. It always worked, but it didn't with Steve simply because she irrevocably adored him. It didn't work when she could scantily control herself around him. She longed for things she never had before; it wasn't just sex that she wanted. She wanted to kiss him until she drowned in everything that was Steve Rogers. She wanted to wake up in his strong arms, to watch him cook breakfast and for him to kiss her forehead as she hugged him from behind.

Then, maybe she'd ask him to unzip her dress.

She wanted to do that stupid, girlfriend shit that she thought was utterly trivial. She wanted him but, of course, she couldn't have him. She and Steve were mere partners, part of the Avengers and never to be lovers. After all, she was the Black Widow, and someone like her didn't deserve someone like Captain America.

 _Damn_ , she needed a drink.

A strong one at that. Love was for children but alcohol wasn't.

Sneaking behind the bar, she mixed herself a cocktail and leaned against the counter. The lights twinkled above her head, and she watched people mingle around her.

"How does a pretty girl like you end up in a place like this?" Bruce Banner asked, walking up to the bar and smirking charmingly at her.

She looked up at him through her dark eyelashes, inhaling deeply through her nose. She really didn't want to talk to the doctor. He was nice and cordial, an imperative part of the team, but he'd been flirting with her for weeks now. She wasn't interested in the slightest. She only had eyes for one man although, he was someone she couldn't have. "A fella' done me wrong." She said dryly, thinking about Steve. She'd noticed him standing a few yards away, but he hadn't even glanced at her. He wore a fitting, blue shirt and a pair of jeans that hugged his very fine ass. He looked utterly breathtaking as he always did. She wanted to omit her desires for him; she really did. She'd tried so hard to fight them, but it was the one thing she couldn't conquer.

Bruce followed her gaze, looking at Steve inquisitively. "You got lousy taste in men, kid. What did he do wrong?" He asked, looking back at her with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

As if feeling their eyes on him, Steve looked back over his shoulder. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her drink, twirling the straw slowly. "Not a single thing, but never say never." She mumbled.

Was she really telling Bruce Banner about her crush on Captain America?

Steve stepped away from those he'd been talking with and joined Natasha and Bruce at the bar. "Can I borrow Tasha for a minute?" Steve asked. He looked at her, his azure orbs meeting her emerald ones, and she held his gaze that sent a delicious shiver up her spine.

"Be my guest." Bruce replied. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone else call you Tasha." He mused.

She would never let anyone else call her 'Tasha.' "He's an old man. He likes to call me old nicknames." She said, stepped out from behind the bar. She set her drink down and let Steve lead her away, through the crowd and up to the rooftop of the Avengers Tower. He placed his large hand on the arch of her back as they climbed the winding staircase, making goosebumps ghost across her skin. He was killing her so slowly.

"You looked absolutely miserable." Steve said. He opened the rooftop door for her, and they stepped out onto the overlook.

"I appreciate the compliment." She retorted. It was cold, the wind gusting through her hair and goosebumps ghosting across her skin. However, it was better than being downstairs at the party although, she could still hear the conversation and music from the speakers. She walked up to the edge of the roof, looking out at the bustling city of Manhattan. She would never get used to the view, the bright lights, the skyscrapers, and the eccentric people so far down below them.

"Are you fishing for an actual compliment, Romanoff?" Steve gently nudged her with his shoulder as he came to stand beside her.

The view of the city wasn't so extraordinary now that he was beside her. She laughed, shaking her head and leaning forward over the wall. Her hands splayed out on the glass, and she closed her eyes. For a moment, she felt free. For one, precious moment, she wasn't the Black Widow.

"You're so perfect."

She heard Steve mumble under his breath; it evidently wasn't for her to hear. She would've usually made a snide comment, but he sounded so breathless, so sincere.

"Танцуй со мной." _[Dance with me.]_ She said, turning to face him.

He looked at her confused.

She took his hands in hers. "Dance with me. Here's your excuse to hold me."

She wasn't shy; friends danced together all the time.

"I don't... I've never danced." He stuttered, an adorable flush rising into his cheeks.

She smiled, taking his hands and guiding his arms around her hips before hers slid around his neck. "It's easy. Just relax and don't break my toes."

She kept a significant amount of space between them, careful to avoid his beautiful gaze as she listened to the music from downstairs. He was stiff and graceless but eventually caught on. She didn't know the song that was playing - Tony had taste for a vast genres of music, but it was slow enough to dance to, enough for her to enjoy.

_"'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to lose, and it's you and me and all of the people. And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you."_

Steve drew one of his arms from her hip, and he grasped her hand, entangling their fingers and resting their hands against his broad chest. Her hand was so small under his and against his massive frame. She stepped closer to him, her breasts brushing against his rib cage, and her breath caught in her throat. "You've lived over seventy years. Are you sure you haven't danced before?" She asked softly.

He really wasn't half bad once he relaxed.

"I'm sure, Nat. I can't say I've really lived - 'been missing out on so much."

_"There's something about you now. I can't quite figure out. Everything she does is beautiful. Everything she does is right."_

He closed the distance between them as the music floated from the speakers. With her thin frame against his, she felt incredibly diminutive. He was just so potent, powerful. It should've scared her. He could kill her with the flick of his wrists, not that he ever would. She liked the feeling of being out of control yet so safe. Only with Steve. "So have I." She whispered, leaning her head against his chest and closing her eyes as he pressed his cheek to her hair. They were hardly dancing now, simply swaying to the beat of the song, although, she was focused on his steady heartbeat under her ear. Her world was tilted on its axis. It felt so right to be in his arms. Home wasn't always a place - sometimes it was a person.

She didn't want the song to end but when it did, neither of them let go. "Ты прекрасна." _[You're beautiful.]_ He said to her in Russian.

She wondered if this was actually all a dream. Steve Rogers spoke her native language now? "Have I gone crazy?" She laughed in disbelief, glancing up at him before letting her head drop against his chest again.

"I was serious about learning Russian, but yeah. You went crazy a long time ago." He replied.

"Я обожаю тебя." _[I adore you.]_ She said quietly. It was unnerving to say her feelings out loud, but she knew that Steve probably wouldn't understand what she'd said anyway.

"I don't know that much." He shook his head.

His arm tightened around her, and she sighed in complacency. She didn't want the night to end. "You'll know eventually." She stated.

Maybe he already knew how she felt about him. Actions spoke louder than words, after all.

"Natasha... Steve! You can't stay up there forever!" Tony shouted from the downstairs balcony.

She and Steve jumped away from one another, and the entrancing spell was shattered by none other than Tony Stark.


	8. To Feel Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Scarlett Witch does a number on Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers is the one to hold her through the torment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Feel Human takes place during Avengers: Age of Ultron. I refuse to acknowledge the (forced and frankly, dumb romance #sorrynotsorry) between Bruce Banner and Natasha. So the romance is entirely centered around her and Steve (the way it should've been).

The HYDRA based was demolished, but they'd all left with fresh scars. The Scarlett Witch's powers pervaded their minds, contorting their thoughts, alluding them to their deepest regrets and horrific memories of the past. Steve still felt the flaming powers from Wanda Maximoff, seeing red every time he closed his eyes. In his mind, he could still see Peggy as if she was actually there, as if he could reach out and touch her.

_Let's go home, Steve._

However, his home didn't exist anymore. Everyone he'd loved was dead and Bucky was, well, gone. They even couldn't go back to the Avengers Tower after Tony and Bruce's mad-science experiment went horribly wrong, and Ultron had wreaked havoc through the building. So, they were forced to fly to Clint's and hideout at his home. The jet had never been so quiet.

When Clint had radioed that Natasha wouldn't be able to further assist with the mission in Sokovia, Steve knew the witch had tormented Natasha with horrific flashbacks of the Red Room. As soon as he'd stepped onto the Quinjet, she looked up at him from where she sat on the settee. Her eyes were glassy, her shoulders slouched, and her hands trembling. He'd never seen her so desolate, and he immediately omitted his own contention and focused on her.

She was all that mattered.

He swooped her up in his arms, and she clutched onto his suit, squeezing her eyes shut as she curled into his side on the couch. He didn't care that their teammates eyed them in disbelief, watching the way Natasha sought comfort in Steve. She'd told him about her past in the dark of the night after a rather tough mission a few months ago, whispering of the Red Room, those she'd killed and tortured. How she'd been refined into the Black Widow, a ruthless murderer of innocent people. He didn't think of her any differently, he still utterly adored her and was grateful she'd opened up to him. He just wished he could take away her pain, to put it upon himself so she could feel human.

This time, there was nothing he could say to her to ease her anguish... all he could do was hold her through it and hope it was enough.

"I can't stand this fucking job." Natasha whispered angrily, her head tucked into the nape of his neck and her breath fanning over his skin.

He mumbled in agreement, taking off his gloves and brushing his fingers through her tangled hair.

Time passed slowly as Clint navigated the aircraft. It was hours later when they landed among woodlands, and the jet's doors opened with a loud _whoosh_. Natasha sighed, slowly rising to her feet, and Steve curled his arm around her hips. She walked so close to him, he tried not to trip over her feet as they strode up to the cosy, white cabin with a wrap-around porch. Clint unlocked the front door and led them inside.

A pregnant women came from the hall, smiling lovingly and embracing Clint tightly. Then, there were children.

Squealing with utter delight, a young boy and girl ran into the room to hug Clint. They were his family, and they were evidently expecting another little one in the upcoming months.

The little girl pulled away from her father to hug Natasha, who leaned down and returned the child's embrace. "Auntie, Nat!" The little girl exclaimed. The boy ran up to Natasha as well, hugging her from the side.

Clint looked around at them, his eyes apologetic. "Meet my wife, Laura, and my two, little goofballs Cooper and Lila. I had Fury keep everything on the down-low; I didn't want them to be in danger." He explained. "Nat found out because well, she's Nat."

"We understand." Steve said swiftly, noticing the way Tony's eyebrows creased and dejection crossed his face. "I would've done the same thing, but we shouldn't be here because we're putting them in danger."

"Just stay here for a few days until you guys figure everything out. We only have two extra bedrooms, but we'll make it work." Laura replied with a kind smile.

As Natasha stood to her feet, the two women embraced, and Natasha ran her hands along Laura's baby bump. "Hello, little one." She whispered.

"Little Natasha changed their mind... it's a boy." Laura said, placing her hands over Natasha's.

She feigned disbelief, leaning down and whispering something to the baby. Steve was utterly captivated with Natasha. He briefly wondered what it would be like to have a family of his own with her, to have her look at him the way Laura looked at Clint. He wanted that. Well, he had. Things were different now. It wasn't feasible to have a family, and Natasha was unable to have children. He'd chosen to live his life as an Avenger, and she was his partner, not his lover. However he still lived for moments with her, to dance upon rooftops and share kisses on escalators. They weren't in love, or at least she wasn't in love with him, but it was enough.

He lived for that, for things to be just enough.

Laura showed them around the cabin, gushing about the renovations they'd done to the house and the nursery they were building. Thor didn't stick around long, soon absconding to Asgard with the promise to return to fight Ultron. Steve wasn't so sure he would actually return, but he let him go. He could only guess how the Scarlett Witch overwrought the God of Thunder.

Nick Fury's presence replaced Thor's, arriving a few hours after he left. The former S.H.I.E.L.D agent explained how he'd heard about the killer robot and had come to discuss the matters at hand. Steve expected him to yell at them and then leave, but he actually stuck around for dinner.

Natasha put on a smile as she played with the children while Clint cooked dinner. Steve, along with Fury, joined him in the kitchen, enjoying the family's banter and the children's shouting. Laura was extraordinary kind, making them feel at home as she set up the couch for Tony to sleep on, the bedroom for Bruce, and the other bedroom for Steve and Natasha to share.

He'd overheard Laura and Clint talking about he and Natasha - their "blooming romance" as Laura had said. He blocked out their conversation and sat down beside Natasha, his large hand brushing against her thigh.

"You better not ask me if I'm okay." She mumbled, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.

He rolled his eyes, laying his arm over the back of her chair. "I haven't even said anything!" He chuckled.

Bruce watched them from across the table, his gaze on Natasha as she leaned into Steve. He felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny and looked down at her tucked into his side.

"Are you Auntie Nat's boyfriend?" Lila asked inquisitively, bounding up to the table and handing Natasha a drawing.

Steve's eyes widened, and he swiftly drew his arm from her shoulders. His cheeks flushed with color, and he shook his head. He had no idea how to respond to the girl's innocent question without sounding utterly repulsed at the idea.

"If he plays his cards right." Tony teased from the living room, a beer in his hand as he watched the television.

Laura stepped in, saving Steve from his embarrassment. "Dinners ready!" She called from the kitchen.

_Saved by the bell._

They all enjoyed the meal, praising Clint for his excellent cooking and relishing in one another's company. It had been a long time since they'd ate together. There was no rush to finish eating and run off to a mission nor was there any bickering that usually ensued by now. It was just them and the children, who Steve adored more than anything. Eventually Laura whisked Lila and Cooper off to bed, leaving the Avengers to listen to Fury's intel.

However, he didn't have any operative information on how to bring down Ultron.

"Well, this is all good times boss, but I was hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that." Natasha sighed, seemingly unsatisfied with the little information Fury had.

"I do, I have you. Back in the day I had eyes everywhere, and ears everywhere else. You kids had all the tech we could dream of. Here we are back on Earth with nothing but our wit and our will to save us. Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission, and whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction... all this, laid in a grave. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard." Fury replied as he slowly paced the length of the dining room, nursing a mug of hot coffee.

"Steve doesn't like that kind-of talk." She said dryly, glancing at him from where he stood leaning against the doorframe.

"You know what, Romanoff..." He huffed. He wasn't actually exasperated with her in the slightest; if making fun of him made her smile (or smirk), he would be happy to be the brunt of her mockery.

Her lips turned up in that gorgeous smirk, and he was sure his heart skipped a beat.

The conversation carried on and soon enough, the booze was pulled out from dusty cabinets. Steve politely declined a drink and made his way to the bedroom he and Natasha were sharing to take a much-needed shower. He tried to come up with a game plan as he stood under the warm spray: they first needed to find Ultron and then take him down. It sounded simple, they'd handled extraterrestrials and robots before, but it was never simple.

Eventually he got out of the shower and tied a towel around his hips, going back out into the bedroom to dig through his bag; they always had supplies and extra clothes on the jets during times like these.

He smiled at Natasha who'd came into the room at some point and was sitting on the bed, wrapped up in the comforter. They shared hotel rooms plenty of times during missions, but this time felt different, more intimate. She shuffled out of bed to take a shower herself as he made himself a bed on the floor. He'd been sprawled out on the carpet when she came from the steamy bathroom wearing his Brooklyn sweatshirt that reached her mid-thigh. He knew she liked wearing his clothes, but it still took his breath away every, damn time he saw her.

He sat up quickly, his jaw slack and his heart pounding. He wasn't the cave-man, possessive type but seeing her in his shirt made him senseless. It gave him the feeling that she was his, kindling avidity deep inside him, bubbling to the surface as he ached to touch and kiss her until she was just as senseless as he was. Being the ever so charming man he was, all he could say was, "Wow."

"I hope you don't mind." She shrugged her shoulder, stepping over him to slip under the sheets and look down at him from where she laid in bed.

He felt his length harden though now definitely wasn't the time to be thinking about sex. "Are you the reason half of my laundry goes missing?" He asked, swallowing thickly and trying to control his breathing.

"Probably." She mumbled.

He inhaled through his nose and laid back down, counting each of his breaths as he watched the ceiling fan spin around and around. He knew Natasha eventually fell asleep when he heard her breathing slow, and her eyes fluttered as she dreamt. He was just about to turn the lights out when she gasped, kicking the blankets off and grabbing her revolver on the nightstand. He stood swiftly, grabbing his shield on the floor beside him as he readied himself to fight whatever she'd reacted to. Just as fast as he'd stood up, he realized she'd awoken from a nightmare. He couldn't fight those types of demons for her and knowing that was a thousand-times worse than losing a battle. He set down his shield and leaned over her on the bed. She set the gun down, and he watched her face crumble as tears rolled down the arch of her cheeks.

It tore his heart apart.

"I gotcha,' sweetheart." He said, drawing her to his chest as he laid down beside her. Her shoulders shook with sobs, and she clutched onto him as though he was her lifeline. He longed to take away her pain, to do something for her, but he was inept, a no-good hero who couldn't even protect the woman he loved.

"I hate this, Steve." She whimpered, a dissonant sound so unlike her.

He cupped the underside of her jaw, brushing away her tears as he stared into her despairing eyes. "I know, Tasha'. Tell me what I can do for you." He urged.

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she placed her trembling hands over his. "I just need you."

He held her tighter, whispering sweet nothings in her ear until her tears finally ceased. Their legs tangled under the sheets, her small frame fitting to his large one like the last piece to a beautiful puzzle. She tilted her chin up to look at him as he grazed his fingers across her shoulders, and he shifted down to kiss her gently. It was a brief kiss, just the brush of his lips against hers, though that didn't make it any less enthralling.

"I'm sorry I can't take away your pain. I wish I could." He murmured. He felt so lost, his heart torn apart from her affliction.

"You do, actually. Just like this."


	9. Ship Sets Sail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one person who doesn't ship Steve and Natasha together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship Sets Sail takes place during Avengers: Age of Ultron. I refuse to acknowledge the (forced and frankly, dumb romance #sorrynotsorry) between Bruce Banner and Natasha. So the romance is entirely centered around her and Steve (the way it should've been). Can you tell I don't like Bruce? lol.

The sun cast its warm, vivid rays through the thicket surrounding Clint's house on Natasha's creamy skin. It drew her from her deep slumber as the light glistened in front of her closed eyelids. She stirred in the blankets, turning over to look at Steve as he drew her closer with his muscular arms around her waist. He was already awake and smiled at her with that smile that stole the breath from her lungs. She'd never get used to waking up with him, their legs tangled under the sheets, listening to his steady breathing and feeling his heartbeat under the palm of her hand. It was their third day at Clint's after Ultron wrecked havoc through the Avengers Towers and the team was left trying to figure out how to defeat the 'platinum bastard.'

They were still trying to recover from the Scarlett Witch's potency as well. They all had different ways of coping: Tony and Clint worked on machinery, Bruce listened to opera music, and Natasha found solace in Steve Rogers, falling asleep in his arms every night and training with him during the day. Sleeping with him was something so simple yet so intimate, something she utterly adored. She told herself it was because she didn't have nightmares or flashbacks of the Red Room when she was with him. However, it was more than that.

Deep down, she knew it was.

"I forgot to shut the curtains, I'm sorry." He murmured huskily, his voice thick with sleep. She'd gone to bed before him after she had a heart-to-heart with Laura, but it hadn't been long until he joined her in bed. He sounded extraordinarily sexy, and it sent a shiver up her spine as heat pooled into her core. Her toes curled in the sheets, but she tried to play off her reaction. She arched her back, lifting her arms above her head and stretching with a soft moan. She looked at the clock on the nightstand seeing that it was only seven o'clock. As early as it was, she knew he was probably going to get up and go for a run.

He ran his hand down her back, his fingertips slipping under her - his - shirt and caressing her skin. She inhaled sharply, glancing up at him through her long eyelashes as she brought her arms down and around his neck.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

She lived for moments like these just like he did; when it was just her and Steve in their own world, when she didn't have to act cold and distant like the Black Widow was always supposed to be. Moments like these were when she felt human. Her leg slid over his, her hips pressing against his momentarily. She felt his hard length grind against her thigh, so long and thick. The super-serum had evidently left nothing untouched. She could hardly envisage taking all of him inside her; surely he wouldn't be able to fit without tearing her apart. However, that didn't mean she wouldn't tease him about it. "Good morning, solider." She smirked coyly.

He swiftly rolled away from her and out of bed, his cheeks flushing crimson. "Natasha..." He stated before shaking his head and going into the bathroom.

She could tell he wasn't sure how to respond although, now she wished she hadn't said anything... if she hadn't, he wouldn't have let her go. She sighed, getting out of bed herself and tugging on her own sweatpants under Steve's shirt. Cooper and Lila didn't wake up until ten, but Tony was sleeping on the couch in the living room, and she didn't want to hear his snide remarks if she walked around in only Steve's shirt.

Tying her short hair back as much as she could, she then wandered out into the kitchen where Laura was sitting at the table. She acknowledged her with a mere nod before she flicked on the coffee brewer that Steve had prepared the night before.

She recalled their conversation.

_"That man is so good for you. I've never seen you so comfortable and genuinely happy." Laura smiled, leaning back on the couch with her glass of orange juice._

_Natasha shrugged, running her hand over Laura's baby bump. She knew exactly who she was referring to. "Yeah... we're very good friends." She mumbled, taking a swing of her wine knowing that she'd need it with the conversation they were about to have._

_"That's not what I mean. I don't know why you two haven't started dating. I mean, you basically are without the sex." Laura retorted._

_Natasha laughed dryly. "It doesn't work like that. I could never be with him anyway; he's like an angel, pure and sweet. I am devil's mistress." She wouldn't deny that she longed for him, but she couldn't admit it out-loud._

_"He lo-adores you, Nat. It's so obvious, and it's in both your eyes."_

Ugh. She should've never sat down to drink with her.

"You know, you have paint on your shirt. Well, let Steve know he has paint on his shirt." Laura quipped with a knowing smile before she walked out of the kitchen.

Natasha didn't turn around to look at her as she waited for her coffee to brew. "He has paint on half of his shirts." She mumbled to herself.

"It's not my shirt anymore. Actually, I have no ownership over my clothes." Steve said to Laura as he strode past her in the hallway and walked into the kitchen. He'd freshened up for his run, already wearing his sneakers.

She rolled her eyes as he came up behind her and reached above her for a mug. As he did so, he placed a hand on her hip.

"Old men only wear the same five outfits. I think you'll survive." She replied, shifting her weight to lean into his touch ever so slightly. As soon as everyone else woke up, they'd have to come back down to Earth, she as the Black Widow, he as Captain America.

Steve chuckled, putting his other arm around her. He leaned behind her and looked over her shoulder as he poured their coffees. "When all this shit is over, I'll still expect my coffee to be ready in the morning." She said, tilting her head back against his broad, firm chest and closing her eyes. It was her twisted way of saying that she wanted to wake up with him in the mornings every day after this.

He hummed in acknowledgement, dropping his head and pressing his cheek against hers. "Of course, ma'am." He teased.

Just a few more moments, she told herself. Although, the last time she'd thought that, she ended up under him in Sam's bed, kissing him passionately and wanting to tear his clothes off

She heard Bruce clear his throat indecently, and they quickly pulled away from one another. Bruce had been contentious over the past few days, particularly towards Steve. She wasn't blind to it all; she knew he was envious and pinned for her. However, she didn't care and had never felt the same way. He was a mere acquaintance, hardly a friend. "This is the kitchen, not the bedroom." He said shortly.

Natasha sipped her coffee, glancing at Steve. "Enjoy your run." She said as if she was dismissing him, even though he ranked higher than her. However, he knew better than to contend with her and left the kitchen without another word. She then looked back at Bruce. "You woke up on the wrong side of the bed." She said.

"No. I just prefer not to walk in on you two acting like everything is fine." He replied.

He struck a nerve, and she set her mug down on the counter as she pulled her shoulders back. "Whatever your problem is... brush it under the rug and mind your own damn business, Banner. For once in my life, I'd like to have a peaceful morning."

"Did Rogers keep you up all night?" She heard him utter.

Oh, that was low. "List-..."

Cooper ran into the kitchen, cutting her off. She wasn't going to argue with Bruce in front of the children. "Auntie Nat! Where's Mr. Rogers?"

She couldn't help but smile, reaching down and picking up Cooper even though he'd gotten significantly bigger since she'd last seen him. "You're not even going to say good morning to me?" She teased the young boy, sponging kisses on his cheek. She turned her back towards Bruce, holding Cooper on her hip.

"Good morning, Auntie..." Cooper said as he grasped the ends of her hair gently. He looked over his shoulder at the expansive, glass window overlooking the backyard. His eyes lit up when he saw Steve tying his shoelaces on the porch, and Natasha rolled her eyes, setting the child down who ran outside to say good morning to Steve.

"You just need to be careful, Natasha. He's still in love with Peggy, not you." Bruce said once Cooper was outside. "You're going to get hurt by Steve even if he doesn't mean to."

She was tempted to throw her hot coffee at him even though it felt like he punched her in the gut. What if he was right? What if Steve would choose Peggy over her if he had the opportunity to go back in time? God, Bruce was right. _He would!_ Casting a cool glare at him, she left the kitchen and went back into her and Steve's room. She slammed the door shut and slid down the frame before she tore his shirt off and threw it on the floor. She dropped her head in her hands, willing herself not to cry. She was living in her own, little bubble, lying to herself about Steve. She always had a sliver of hope that he felt the same way she did, that they were on the same page. However, she knew he didn't.

She was just Peggy's replacement for now until he realized what an awful person she was. Then he would cut things off, and she'd lose him just like she'd pushed away everyone else who had cared about her. The only difference was that she wouldn't be able to bounce-back from losing Steve. He was her partner - the one person who knew her better than she knew herself, the one person who believed in her when she didn't even believe in herself. He was her best friend more than Clint had ever been, and no one, not even the Black Widow, could move on from Steve Rogers.


	10. Till The Angels Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Steve's first night in the new Avengers Compound doesn't go as she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest... it was time. Lots of smut! Till The Angels Sing takes place between the end of Avengers: Age of Ultron and the beginning of Captain America: Civil War.

_God_.

Natasha was utterly exhausted.

Training Wanda Maximoff, Vision, and Sam Wilson was frustrating and taxing. It was especially hard to work with Wanda as she still held a grudge against the Scarlett Witch for evoking flashbacks and memories of the past she'd omitted, making her cry. The Black Widow didn't cry. Natalia Alianovna Romanova, on the other hand, was a weak, pathetic girl who sought comfort in Steve Rogers; the epitome of vulnerability who couldn't sleep without his arms wrapped around her. She'd spent the last four nights with him at Clint's, and it was their first night in the new Avengers Compound. She was already thinking about how he wouldn't be there in bed with her to sponge kisses across her shoulders and whisper broken Russian in her ear.

She tried to focus on how adorable baby Nathaniel Pietro Barton was (even though he was a he) and how the Avengers, along with help from the Maximoffs and S.H.I.E.L.D, miraculously defeated Ultron, saving thousands of civilians and the world in its entirety. But alas, it was no use. She just really needed to pull herself together and stop acting so lovesick. Though, it wasn't love. It was merely adoration. 

Meanwhile Steve convened on the new recruits, seemingly blind to Natasha's discord as he worked with Wanda, Vision, and Sam. He was kind yet firm, helping Wanda control her powers and Sam to augment his; Vision hadn't needed too many instructions. Natasha couldn't help but commend him for the way he explained things and brushed off their mistakes, encouraging them to try again until they got it right.

"I'm going to start making dinner." She grumbled to Steve as they watched Wanda blow up one of the training dummies. The young girl was extraordinary powerful, flourishing with potential, but it would take months to prepare her for missions.

Steve glanced at her, and his blonde eyebrows quirked in surprise. "You, cooking? That sounds like a disaster... I'll be up to help in a minute, and we'll break in the new kitchen." He said before he looked back at Wanda.

She rolled her emerald eyes, turning on her heels and leaving the training center. The compound was hauntingly silent, the vast, grey hallways and rooms never ending. It would take time to get used to it, the massive layout and the lofty ceilings. She liked the location however. It was amicable being surrounded by thick woodlands and rolling fields with a crystal, blue lake in front of the main building. She was looking forward to sitting on the porch and watching the world go on around her, maybe seeing a rabbit bounding through the grass or a deer nibbling on the thicket.

She wandered the quarters for a while, trying to find the kitchen among the dozens of suites and small parlors. Finally, she came across the sleek gallery and looked through the food that Tony had stocked for them. She could cook for herself, microwaving dinners and throwing together a quick meal. However, she had no idea what she was doing when it came to cooking for others.

"You look a little lost, Tasha’."

_Fuck you, Steve._

He strode into the kitchen with Vision, Wanda, and Sam behind him, a smirk playing upon his tantalizing lips. "Alright, Придурок. Cook for us." _[Jerk.]_ She said, leaning against the counter.

She heard Wanda stifle her laughter from where she'd sat down at the table, and she glanced at her, recalling that the girl spoke Russian as well.

Natasha smiled.

It was probably the first time she'd ever shown sentiment toward the other red-head.

"We're fucked, Rogers. They're going to be talking behind our back all the time." Sam groaned, sitting down beside Wanda. "Hurry up and learn Russian."

"I'm trying, man..." Steve replied with a short laugh. He handed Natasha a knife and gestured to the tomatoes. "Can you cut those for me, Tasha'?" He asked.

 _Easy enough_ , she thought to herself. She was great with a knife.

She stood at the counter chopping whatever Steve asked her to as he worked around her, putting a pot of hot water on the stove and boiling potatoes. The other three helped as well. Wanda actually seemed interested in learning how to cook, asking Steve about what he was doing and why.

Natasha slipped away from the kitchen to shower before they all sat down to eat. That was her excuse, at least. She really just needed to stop staring at Steve and envisaging his large hands on her. She longed for him, not in the innocent way she had him but in the most dirty, carnal of ways. A cold shower didn't help and neither did touching herself. The ache in her core was still there.

She put on his sweatshirt that she'd taken from his laundry basket a while ago and a pair of leggings. She loved wearing his clothes but not because they were comfortable. It was because they were his, smelling of detergent, mint, and something entirely Steve.

She walked back out into the kitchen, the delectable aroma of dinner making her mouth water, and she sat down at the table with Sam and Vision. She didn't miss the way Steve drank in the sight of her, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as his broad chest expanded. She relished in his reaction, sipping at her drink as he and Wanda laid out the dishes before they all sat down to eat.

"How long have you two been together?" Wanda asked, glancing between Natasha and Steve.

Sam snorted with laughter as he shoved potatoes into his mouth.

"It feels like forever." Natasha said, winking at Steve, making him flush adorably with chagrin. "But we aren't together in that way. He's too embarrassed of me."

Wanda frowned, the wheels seeming to turn in her head before she casually shrugged her shoulders and continued eating.

"I am not embarrassed of you." Steve chimed in with the shake of his head.

She really needed to learn how to keep her mouth shut, but it was too late. "Sure sounded like it at Clint's." She said dryly, embittered about what'd Steve had said to Lila, sounding as if she was venom coursing through his veins that he needed draw out. She knew she shouldn't be upset about it, she had no right to be, but she was.

Sam spoke before Steve did. "Alright, woman. Drop it."

"Did you just call me woman?" Natasha snapped. 

How dare he?

"Shit... uh..." Sam stuttered, pushing his chair back from the table to get up as the others laughed.

-

It was just her and Steve in the living room that night, the radio playing softly as she sipped red wine on the couch, and he filed through paperwork on the floor, sitting beside her legs. Everyone else had already turned in for the night, exhausted from training for most of the day. It wasn't awkward between her and Steve, but there was something between them that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Although she tried to pretend it wasn't there and hummed along to the catchy song.

_'You know I love watching you do your thing. I love her hips, curves, lips say the words, "Te amo, mami, ah, te amo, mami." I kiss her, this love is like a dream.'_

"I still can't believe that you think I'm embarrassed of you." Steve said with a sigh, setting down the files and turning to look at her. He appeared vexed, and he'd evidently been thinking about her snide comment.

She couldn't help but smirk, seeing as it had gotten to him. That'd been her plan all along. "Oh, Captain. I'm just being honest." She shrugged her shoulder then took a sip of her wine.

His eyes were on her lips.

Да, просто поцелуй меня. _[Yes, just kiss me.]_ She thought to herself.

"How did you even come to that conclusion, Natasha?" He asked.

_'So join me in this bed that I'm in. Push up on me and sweat, darling. So I'm gonna put my time in, I won't stop until the angels sing. Jump in that water, be free. Come south of the border with me. Jump in that water, be free. Come south of the border with me.'_

The song definitely wasn't helping to cool her fervor for him. She wasn't sure how to respond. How was she supposed to without sounding madly in love with him (which she wasn't)? "I think I'll let you figure that one out." She decided, setting down her glass and standing up. She figured that he'd let her walk out, letting her go and the conversation linger in the air. However, he stood along with her, grasping her hips and pulling her to him. She gasped, her hands braced on his hard chest. This wasn't the shy Steve Rogers she was used to... this was Captain America on a mission, driven for answers.

And it was sexy as hell.

"I've spent every night with you this past week, and you're going to walk away like this?" He asked gruffly.

Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, the ball of heat in her core tightening as they glared at one another. His eyes flashed - he was fuming, and she was turned on. It was a deadly combination, like adding gasoline to an already blazing inferno. "You're not going to let me walk away, so no. Technically, I'm not going anywhere." She said.

"You and your mouth." Steve growled and then, he kissed her.

It was so unlike him to be so dominant and for her to be so docile. However, she knew he would never hurt her, he would never use his strength against her and if she said stop, he would. Not that she would ever tell him to.

She moaned, submissively parting her lips as he sucked her bottom lip before his tongue slid into her mouth and dominated hers. This was what she'd been craving, so ensnared in Steve that she lost herself. This is what she wanted, for him to own her soul and control her. Her life had been all about control... she wasn't afraid, and she wanted to finally let go.

He pulled back to suddenly lift her off the ground, and her toned legs locked around his hips. Their lips clashed again, her fingers tangling in his hair as her other hand grasped his shoulder. Everything was so intense. She couldn't think, couldn't even remember to breathe as he kissed her. Somehow, he stumbled to one of their bedrooms - she wasn't sure if it was his or hers - and threw her down on the bed. She looked up at him, sitting up on her elbows. He was a vision as stood at the end of the bed and took her in with his amorous, azure eyes. She truly felt beautiful under his gaze.

Then, his eyes dropped down to his feet, and she knew what he was thinking. "We should stop before this goes too far." He said, frustratedly combing his fingers through his tousled hair and taking a step back from the bed. "I don't want to ruin our friendship..."

She groaned in dissent. "You've got to be kidding me." She snapped, sitting up on her knees. "This is not friendship. It never has been. I actually don't know what it is, but I do know that we've waited too long to do anything about it." She said, throwing her hands up in defeat and sliding off the bed, noticing that they were in his room. "This is exactly my point!"

He grasped her hand, tugging her back to him even as she tried to pull away. "I want you, Natasha. I've wanted this probably way longer than you have." He said with a breathless laugh, cupping the underside of her jaw and forcing her to look up at him. "I just don't want this to be a quick one-and-done. I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me." She couldn't help but laugh as well, utterly relieved to hear that he _actually_ felt the same way. She curled her arm around his neck and drew him down so she could kiss him. "But you will if you don't fuck me right now."

He was more gentle this time, more loving as he laid over her on the bed. He sat up on his knees so she could tug off his shirt and then, he pulled hers off. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he moaned in appreciation, leaning down to brush his lips across her breasts before he sucked on her left tip, his hand massaging the other. She cried out, her back arching as she grasped onto his shoulders. Vestige shot straight to her core, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She was so overwrought with need it hurt. "Touch me, tы мне нужен." _[I need you.]_ She whimpered, struggling to even think coherently.

He boldly smoothed her pants down her legs, and then his fingers found her slick folds as his thumb pressed down on her clit. She was wet before he even touched her. Her hips jerked, and he wrapped one of his arms around her, holding her still. "Как хотите." _[As you wish.]_ He murmured huskily.

She could cum just by hearing him speak Russian. A part of her had wondered if Steve Rogers was a virgin, but he _definitely_ wasn't.

He kissed down the length of her body to her inner thighs, making her squirm and moan breathlessly, and parted her folds with his thick fingers. He sucked on her clit as he curled his fingers in and out of her, and she nearly screamed. "Steve!" She cried over and over again, trembling and writhing in his grasp as warm flooded over her, her core tightening and fluttering as he drove her to the crest of her orgasm with each swirl of his tongue. She really hoped the walls were soundproof. She nearly screamed as she orgasmed, her walls tightening around his tongue as her fingers yanked on his hair. She was trembling, gasping and twisting in the sheets as her hips jerked. A strand of his control seemed to snap, and he grasped her hips with his hands, pinning her to the bed as he took all that she could give him. It seemed he couldn't get enough of the taste of her. "I-I can't... too much." She gasped as he continued to suck her clit, moaning as he tasted her silky cream, and another orgasm built inside her at the vibration of his moan.

He pulled back slightly, the vast muscles in his shoulders rolling. "Too much? We're just getting started, Tasha'." He smirked then sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, savoring the taste of her. He was an utter vision, carnal and extraordinary sexy.

"Holy fuck." She laughed breathlessly. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she actually had him. She didn't have to hold back anymore.

He slid up her body, kissing her lips softly as he cupped her jaw and his thumb tenderly brushed across her cheekbone. "I thought you said it was too much?" He teased.

"Fuck me Steve or I'll find someone else to." She huffed, her legs still shaking ever, so slightly. She wouldn't, of course, lying through her teeth.

She wanted him.

Only him.

Now until forever.

He growled lowly at her remark, grasping her thighs and sending a rush up her spine. She never thought of him being dominant and possessive but he evidently was, and it turned her on. It should've scared her because she trusted someone so much that she was willing to completely give up control. However, this was Steve. She knew he would never hurt or take advantage of her. She reached down and grasped his massive length, unable to wrap her hand around him as she pumped him slowly. She heard his sharp inhale as his hips flexed, and she felt incredibly powerful to have such an effect on him. She drew him forward, the thick head of his cock nudging her clit. She pulled her hand back as he reached down to connect them, and she wrapped her arms his neck. She closed her eyes as he kissed her and pressed himself into her.

She gasped as he stretched her. It wasn't pleasurable - he was too big. It was too much, and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Fortunately, he was going slow; he'd hardly pushed into her. However, she just felt so full and tight... so unbearably full. He held himself above her, stroking her cheek as his other hand brushed her hair from her face. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He murmured. He sounded utterly despondent, like it tore him apart seeing that he'd caused her pain, even though it wasn't his fault that he was so big. It was probably the super-serum's fault. "Let's try this another time." He said, beginning to pull away.

She shook her head, tightening her legs around his waist before he could pull out of her completely. "No, I want this. The pain will fade." She assured him, her eyes fluttering open to look up at his azure eyes.

He sighed, holding her gaze for a moment to affirm that she was sure.

She was.

He slowly pulled out before he gently thrust inside her. He grasped onto her thigh, grinding his jaw as he held himself back for her. With every slow grind of his hips against hers, every kiss he pressed to lips and her neck, the pain faded and heat pooled into her core once again. She began to meet his thrusts as moans spilled from her lips. "Harder." She gasped, arching her back. She didn't want him to hold back anymore. She needed all of him, everything he could give her.

He moaned in response, sponging kisses across her jaw as he slammed his hips against hers and the headboard hit the wall with a _thud_. "Oh, да! Steve!" _[Yes.]_ She cried, fisting one of her hands in the sheets as the other tangled in his tousled hair. She could feel her orgasm building, the blinding pleasure making her lightheaded.

"You okay?" He said through sharp gasps of his own.

She nodded in response, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her head back against the pillow. She couldn't even form a coherent sentence, overwhelmed with pleasure in the most sublime way.

"God, Natasha. You're so beautiful." He moaned.

She really felt like she was with the way he worshiped her body. She relished in the way he slid deep inside her, feeling every ridge and thick vein of his cock that rubbed against her tight walls and that special spot inside her. She was utterly senseless, only able to convene on Steve and how much she completely adored him.

"Кончи для меня." _[Cum for me.]_ He moaned, pressing his forehead against hers, and his breath fanned over her lips. "I need to feel you cum."

She was close, so close she could taste it. She could feel it through her entirely, black spots dotting her vision as every muscle in her body tightened. Steve was as close as she was. She could feel his cock pulse, and he thrust inside her harder, the headboard hitting the wall rhythmically. She was going to feel him for days, and she loved it. Their releases came rushing towards them so fast, neither of them were able to catch their breaths. All she could do was cry in pleasure as he moaned her name over and over again. He didn't stop even as he came, prolonging her orgasm as she felt him cum inside her, filling her up as the rest dripped down their thighs.

He pulled out slowly as they came down from their highs and then rolled onto his back, drawing her over his broad chest. She gasped for her breath, feeling his heart pounding under the palm of her hand. "Are you okay?" He asked again breathlessly.

She smiled, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and closing her eyes. "That was... intense." She said. She then began giggling, still high on her orgasm as she doubled over with laughter.

He look down at her worriedly. "Was it good? Are you hurt?"

She laughed more, shaking her head. How could he have any doubt that he hadn’t pleasured her? "Good? Holy shit, Steve. That was incredible... insane!"

He laughed along with her, evidently relieved she was okay although, he seemed to be confused as to why she was laughing.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "Я обожаю тебя." _[I adore you.] H_ e said.

"Я обожаю тебя тоже." _[I adore you too.]_ She replied.


	11. Defense Theorem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha Romanoff used to live by the Defense Theorem. That was until Steve Rogers came into her life like the mighty superhero he was.
> 
> It took years for her to figure out that she wanted him in her life and then, another few years for her to show him exactly how much she wanted him.
> 
> Along the way, she also figured out that the best way to apologize to him was with a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Defense Theorem takes place before Captain America: Civil War. This was supposed to be short and fluffy, but wow...

Natasha Romanoff explained it to Wanda Maximoff as the Defense Theorem. It was the way to survive, the way to be successful in this line of work that called for risking their lives every time they went out into the field. The theorem's main concept was that their job was to protect as many people as possible but also accept the fact that people would get hurt, that they as Avengers would hurt people because not even Captain America could protect everyone. The theorem's subordinate concept was to always keep their defenses up.

Always.

Natasha had taken that further than the others, never letting anyone break through the walls she'd worked so hard to erect. Natasha lived by the Defense Theorem. Well, she had. Then, Steve Rogers had come along and barreled through her walls, tearing down every line of defense she had. He'd come into her life with sweet words, shy smiles, and husky chuckles. With fierce touches, passionate kisses, and titillating whispers.

She'd tried to fight the strikingly, handsome solider, to push him away - to even run away from him. She didn't deserve to have him in her life. She was the dark, and he was the light. He was the sun who shined with radiant rays, and she was the moon who cast dark shadows on the world. She didn't understand why he was so determined to have her, every part of her. To learn her past and possibly be apart of her future. However, she should've known from the beginning that Captain America never gave up. He was frighteningly loyal, sometimes reckless, and ever so kind. Natasha speculated that they were so wrong for each other, but it felt so right when she was with him.

She had to repeatedly remind herself that she didn't deserve him.

She didn't deserve to wake up with him the past few nights they'd spent at the compound, for him to pleasure her until she _literally_ passed out. To relish in his doting kisses and despondent goodbye when she had to leave for a two-week, undercover mission with Clint after only three days at the new Avengers Compound. The mission was quite simple - destroy an underground lab - but that didn't make it any less dangerous.

As soon as her and Clint were settled on the Quinjet, he'd pestered her about her and Steve's 'blooming relationship.' She was expecting the conversation and was honest with her friend although, she really didn't have much to say. Her and Steve been sleeping together and spent the past three days in their own, little paradise training Wanda, Vision, and Sam.

However, that wasn't their reality.

They hadn't talked about their future, the one that Natasha didn't think she had with him, but Clint disagreed.

 _"He just wants you, Nat. For who you are. He's the greatest man we know, that any of us will ever know, and he wants you. He sees something in you that you don't see in yourself,_ so don't keep pushing him away."

She'd been so conflicted on her situation with Steve that she'd actually made a mistake on the mission. While shutting down the lab that had been combining poisonous compounds, she'd inhaled a breath of the fumes because she didn't check if the container was sealed. She was okay, really, other than the throwing up, feeling nausea, and feeling like a bucket of ice water had been poured on her. Dr. Fine had examined her as soon as they'd returned to the compound. He'd told her that she would experience signs and symptoms similar to the flu. All she could really do was curl up in bed and rest as much as possible.

She'd wanted to see Steve the moment she was back, but she also didn't want him to dote over her like she knew he would; she could take care of herself. So, she returned to her suite, took a much-needed shower, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the soft pillow.

She woke up to the smell of something utterly delicious. It only took her a moment to gather her bearings, and she sat up slowly to not make herself nauseous. Wrapping the blanket at the end of the bed around herself, she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Steve was cooking. She presumed Clint told him that she wasn't feeling well... she just hoped that he didn't tell Steve about what exactly happened.

"Heard you were sick..." He said, hearing her footsteps and turning around to look at her.

It'd only been two weeks since she had last seen him, but it felt like a year. His handsomeness took her breath away like it did the very, first time she met him. He was perfect, the slope of his cheekbones and the arch of his jaw, his tee-shirt brandishing his vast muscles that reminded her of a mountain range, and his sweatpants... it should really be illegal for him to wear those. Desire pooled into her core no matter how hard she tried to focus on what he was cooking.

She walked up to him, leaning into his touch as he placed his hand on her forehead to feel how warm she was. She was actually freezing. He drew her to his broad chest, rubbing her arms as she snuggled against him. Even though she shouldn't even be standing near him, how could she not? She felt like she was safe and at home, right where she belonged. It scared her just how strong the feeling was as vitality sparked between them, and it wasn't just sexual.

"Yeah. Flu or something like that. My knockoff serum doesn't do it's job like yours does." She mumbled, telling herself that she'd put her defenses back up when his hands weren't on her, and she could think straight.

Well, maybe she'd do it when she felt better. She could enjoy a couple more days of this. A lifetime, actually.

Forever.

Тьфу. Получите это вместе. Помните теорему защиты. _[Ugh. Get it together. Remember the Defense Theorem.]_

"I'm making you soup. Go back to bed, and I'll bring you some when it's ready." He told her, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. He evidently didn't know that she'd nearly gotten herself killed thinking about him, and she decided that she would keep it that way. He grasped her hand when she was quiet, drawing it up to his soft lips and kissing the pulse in her wrist.

Oh, god.

She suddenly didn't feel cold anymore as she blushed. _Fucking blushed_... she could've melted right then and there. Her heart thrummed, and she couldn't tell if it was the butterflies in her stomach or the poisonous fumes that made her want to throw up. Inhaling sharply, she pulled her hand away and stepped back from him. She saw his eyes flash with pain, but it was too much. She could feel herself falling for him, down, down, down. That couldn't happen. "You don't have to, Steve. I'm okay on my own." She said. "Always have been."

He sighed, taking her hands in his. He looked so sincere and adorable, just like a wounded puppy. She never wanted to hurt a puppy, so she didn't pull away this time. "I want to. I know you can take care of yourself, but you don't always have to."

She groaned. He really had a way with words. Or she really had a soft spot for him. It was probably the latter. "Fine. Fine. I'm too tired to fight." She huffed.

He grinned. He looked so elated, and she was surprised he didn't fist-pump the air.

She turned and shuffled back into the bedroom, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips no matter how hard she fought it.

"God forbid I want to take care of the woman who I've been sleeping with!" He called after her.

She couldn't help but laugh. The sex had really gone to his head.

After lying back down, Steve came in a while later with a bowl of soup and a kind smile. She leaned up against the headboard, and he sat down beside her. "Thank you." She said, taking the bowl from him and carefully sipping from the spoon.

It was delicious.

She moaned, shoving spoonfuls into her mouth and hoping she wouldn't throw it up later.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" She asked. He'd cooked for her before, but she'd never bothered to ask who taught him.

"I learned how to be an adult at a young age. My mother fell sick with pneumonia when I was a teenager, and we couldn't afford help so I took care of her until she died." He replied.

Her heart ached for him. She knew about his past just because his life - his inspirational story - was so public and known by most people. However, she'd never heard him specifically talk about it, how he'd become the man he was today. The man she admired and absolutely adored. She shifted closer to him, her thigh pressing against his as if her touch would comfort him. Although, he really didn't seem to be upset. He simply wrapped his muscular arm around her lower back, turning his head and kissing the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up.

_More, more, more._

Her pulse was quickening, her toes curling in the sheets even though it was just a mere kiss.

"I'm sorry." She murmured sympathetically once she realized he wasn't going to kiss her properly.

He shook his head in response. "Finish eating, sweetheart. Or do I need to hand feed you?"

"Nope, don't need that." She quipped.

He massaged her thighs and her calves as she ate, making the warmth in her heart diffuse throughout her entire body. She would never be able to describe how he made her feel, just being with him - even with their clothes on. It was utterly striking.

After she finished her soup, she set down the bowl on the nightstand and climbed into his lap with mischief glinting in her emerald eyes. She pressed her core against his length that she could feel through his sweatpants, and he looked up at her, his eyebrows quirked in surprise.

She pressed her lips against his, all tongue and teeth. She heard his sharp inhale of surprise, his brain quickly catching up with his body as he kissed her back with just as much passion. As much as she relished in their cuddles and pillow talk, she'd been away for two weeks, and she was charged with sexual energy despite the fact that she was quite ill. She was longing to feel Steve's thick length slide inside her, his lips against hers, trailing down her body as his large hands grasped her ass. To hear him moan her name, to feel everything and loose herself in him.

"God, Natasha." He groaned, grasping her thighs. "Вы сводите меня с ума." _[You drive me insane.]_

"Your Russian has gotten better." She moaned.

She sucked and nipped at his bottom lip, grinding herself on him as he quickly became hard. She was already wet, her abdomen aching and tightening with every roll of her hips against his. It hurt - how much she wanted him. Every slide of her lips against his, every time he gripped her thighs and her ass, every time she felt his muscles roll under her hands... it drove her right to the edge. She clutched onto him, digging her nails into his shoulder, needing something, anything, to anchor herself to.

Just as she reached for the band of his sweatpants, he lifted her off her lap. She groaned in protest, a chill shivering up her spine at the sudden loss of contact. She ached, twisting closer to him, but he gently grasped her face and looked at her.

"You're sick. You need to rest." He said breathlessly. He looked throughly wrecked, desperately holding onto his self control and restraining himself with everything he had left.

She loved what she did to him, to have such a potent affect on a man in the most genuine, sensual way.

She tried to lean in to kiss him, but he pulled back completely. "Why don't you take a bath while I clean up the kitchen?" He suggested.

She groaned, rolling her eyes. He was too pure sometimes, too caring. "Fine. But I expect you to fuck me hard once I'm over this sickness." She stated. "Make me pass out again..."

She saw his eyes flash with longing and something else entirely that made her core weep with desire.

"I will, and that's a promise. Although, it scared me the first time you passed out." He said with a soft chuckle. He helped her off the bed, kissing her gently just before she turned and headed into the bathroom. It was a simple kiss but that didn't make it any less thrilling.

She stripped down and soaked in the tub, listening to Steve bustle around in the kitchen as he packaged the soup and cleaned up from cooking. She heard a knock on the door as well, but she couldn't hear who he was talking to or what they were talking about. Eventually, she dragged herself from the bath, threw up the soup (her luck, of course), and tugged on leggings and a thick sweater before she shuffled into the kitchen where Steve was leaning over the countertop.

He looked tense, his shoulders pulled back and his vast muscles taunt. His back was too her, but she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

He knew.

Clint must've came by.

_Damn him!_

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked gruffly, breaking the tense silence between them. He didn't turn to look at her.

She played naive, though she knew it was probably going to make the situation worse. It was instinctive, part of the Defense Theorem that she tried to live by. "Tell you what?" She asked.

"That you were a breath away from dying." He snapped, glaring at her over his shoulder.

He'd been mad at her plenty of times before, fuming actually. However, this felt different. It felt like he'd stabbed a knife into her heart, the despondent look in his beautiful eyes twisting the blade. She had to remind herself to breath, to inhale deeply and calm down. She was suddenly afraid that he would leave and not return.

"I guess the cat is out of the bag..." She said. "Honestly, it doesn't matter what happened. I'm alive, I'm here now, and there's nothing you could've done anyway." She said dryly.

He turned around to look at her, his gaze piercing her soul. _God_ , it hurt. "I know that. This is about honesty. I really thought that we were past this - you deceiving me, tricking me into having a different perspective about the whole situation. You could've died..."

"I did not deceive you." She said hotly. She just didn't tell the whole truth... "What was even the point of me telling you about what happened? Again, there's nothing you could've done, Rogers." She said, finding it easier to use his last name, to fall back on the Defense Theorem and try to quickly build her armament.

"You sure as hell weren't honest, and heaven knows what else you've been hiding from me. All I've ever wanted was for you to be truthful. The least you could do is give me that. I've tried not to ask for anything more. I've tried really, Natasha." He said defeatedly. "Call me if you need anything. Or don't. Apparently there isn't a difference." He turned and walked past her, leaving her suite and letting the door slam shut.

She was alone.

She usually found it easy to be angry, to push down her feelings and try to blame Steve when they fought. However, she had no reason to be mad at him. He was right, after all. He was her best friend, someone she wanted in her life. Someone she wanted to see everyday. The least she could do was be honest with him. To communicate. Wasn't that apart of every, successful relationship? Communication?

She wanted to call him back and plead for him to stay. For one of the very, first times in her life, she was trying to figure out how she could be better for someone else. How she could make it up to Steve and apologize; what she could do to keep him in her life. She'd thought that pushing him away would make it easier for the both of them but in the end, she was torturing herself and him. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is Steve?" She asked the new technological system for the compound.

"Captain Steve Rogers is in his suite, Ms. Romanoff." The electronic replied cordially.

She quickly took the elevator to his floor and knocked on his door. It took a while for him to answer but when he finally did, she took one look at his handsome face and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She leaned her head against his broad chest, listening to his steady heartbeat that immediately soothed her. She heard - felt - his heavy sigh before he wrapped his arms around the arch of her back and held her closely. She was grateful that he did, even though he was indignant with her. She didn't know what she would've done if he would have pushed her away.

"Whenever my dad would piss my mom off, he used to apologize like this... so I'm sorry, Steve." She mumbled. "Please be patient with me because I don't want to lose you. I know I suck at this whole human-emotion-thing, but I want to be better for you. I promise I'm really going to try from here on out."

He pressed her closer to him, dropping his head and nuzzling his nose against the nape of her neck. "Thank you, sweetheart." He said, his breath fanning over her skin. "I shouldn't have left... I should've considered how you were feeling."

"If you wouldn't have left, then I wouldn't have had the chance to apologize like this." She said as she smiled, genuinely and reverently. She felt light and airy, recalling the few, fond childhood memories she had and hoping she'd make plenty more, sentimental memories with Steve.

He pulled back so she could come inside his suite. It felt like she was finally home, that she didn't have to hide anymore. She immediately grabbed the sweatshirt from his laundry basket on the couch and tugged it on. He always kept his suite freezing, but she never really minded. It just gave her a legitimate excuse to be as close to him as physically possible.

"Once you're feeling better, can I take you out to dinner?" He asked. He sounded abashed, like they hadn't ate a hundred times together already.

Was he asking her on a date? A proper one? Not just ordering takeout in a hotel room after a long mission or eating at fancy restaurants while operating undercover...

She wanted to hear him say that he wanted to take her on a date, that he wanted her just because he could have her. It was something so simple yet unfamiliar to her. She longed to know how it felt, to be wanted in the most transparent of ways.

God, she was cruel to him, merciless really.

"We eat dinner together all the time, Steve." She smirked coyly, turning and looking at him.

He leaned up against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest as his cheeks flushed with color. This was the man before the ice, before the super serum turned him into a hero. This was the man she wanted to get to know, the Brooklyn boy who could hardly look a girl in the eye. "I want to take you on a date - actually treat you right. We skipped that part, and god, you deserve so much more than this. You honestly deserve the world, and I should've done so much more for you." He said with a slight shake of his head, his gaze cast down. "But if you let me, I'll make it up to you. I'll try to give you the world..."

Just like that, he stole the breath from her lungs.

She swiftly walked up to him, cupping his beautiful face in her hands and staring up at him. She hoped her eyes would show him just how much she adored him because she would never be able to put it into words. "Yes, I'll go out with you, and how did I get so lucky?" She asked as he looked into her eyes. She brushed her thumb under the arch of his jaw, leaning up onto the tips of her toes as he dropped his head and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I ask myself that every, damn time I see you." He murmured.


	12. La Vie En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life in pink. Or is it a life in red?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La Vie En Rose takes place right before Captain America: Civil War. All the feels in this chapter; this song sung by Lady Gaga is absolutely breathtaking. I highly recommend listening to it!

It was one of Stark's stupid parties.

Natasha never wanted to go to them, but her pay required her to make an appearance. The ballroom was embellished with everything French for the theme that night: French food, French music, and even a massive, Eiffel Tower cutout. The only thing she really liked about the entire thing was the music. There was something utterly beautiful about the French language that had her humming along as she sipped her cocktail and observed everyone as they mingled and danced.

She worn a shimmering, black dress and had straightened her hair for the event; she'd even let Wanda do her makeup although, Steve had insisted she didn't need it. She had the feeling he was just trying to buy time and get her to shower with him.

She wasn't exactly sure what they were. They'd crossed a lot of lines, and it was too late to go back. Was he her boyfriend? Not exactly. Were they exclusive? Well, they hadn't talked about it, but she sure hoped he wasn't seeing other women. Were they in love? No, she couldn't even say that word. He loved Peggy, after all. The only thing she was certain about was that she adored him and at least, he adored her; she fell asleep in his arms every night, and he picked her flowers every morning after his run. She couldn't live without him, and he couldn't live without her, but it wasn't that simple. Love, well adoration, was dangerous and complicated as Avengers. They had to keep their 'relationship' or whatever it was, a secret and could never have what Laura and Clint had.

Her and Steve could never have a family or a house of their own, no matter how much she longed for it.

For a moment, she watched Clint and Laura dance, the lights sparkling above their heads as he pressed a kiss to his wife's lips. Natasha couldn't help but smile as she watched them.

Love was deadly but _oh_ , so beautiful.

"Do you want to dance?" Bruce Banner asked, walking up to her and drawing her attention from Clint and Laura. He wore a blue button-down, his brown hair tousled and his dark eyes gleaming in the light. He'd come to visit for the evening, but he was scheduled to leave tomorrow morning. She, of course, didn't want to dance with him, but she had to play nice as his teammate, even though she momentarily thought back on what he'd said in Clint's kitchen.

"One song." She said dryly, setting down her drink on the bar and walking with him onto the polished, marble dance floor. She'd been hoping to draw Steve away and up to the rooftop like they'd done at Tony's past parties but evidently, that wasn't going to happen. Bruce slid his arms around her waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders, keeping distance between them. It didn't feel right; she should be in Steve's strong arms, gazing up into his azure eyes. With him, it was the only time she felt like she was home, like she belonged.

God, he'd made her into such a _girl._

_Weak and compromised._

"You look stunning, Nat." Bruce said, his fingers pressing into the curve of her waist and dipping lower. 

Не бей его. _[Don't punch him.]_ She thought to herself. 

She mustered a cordial smile. "Thank you. It's nice that you came for a visit. The new compound is great." She wasn't sure exactly what to say. Small talk had never been easy for her. "Although, when I say compound, it sounds like we're in prison."

Bruce laughed, spinning her around to the beat of the song. She was counting down until it was over and when the melody finally faded through the speakers, she dropped her arms, and he thanked her for the dance.

"Now, let me have a whirl with the Black Widow." Ross said as he walked onto the dance floor with his infamous smirk. The government figure reached out for her, but she swiftly stepped away from him. She definitely didn't want his callous hands all over her.

She felt familiar, strong arms wrap around her, the strong arms of _her_ man, Steve Rogers, saving the day as Captain America always did. "Actually, I've been waiting to dance with her for a while now." He said.

"Sorry." Natasha smirked unapologetically at Ross before looking at Steve as he drew her close to him. He was breathtakingly handsome in a dress shirt and sleek, dark pants... always so handsome. She pressed against him, hearing his sharp inhale as her breasts pushed against the broad planes of his chest.

 _Oh_ , she was definitely getting laid tonight.

"You're late." She said as another song began to play. She actually knew this one, La Vie En Rose.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens. Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche. Voilà le portrait sans retouche. De l'homme auquel j'appartiens. Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle l'a tout bas, je vois la vie en rose." _[A gaze that make me lower my own. A laugh that is lost on his lips that is the un-retouched portrait of the man to whom I belong. When he takes me into his arms, he speaks softly to me, and I see through rose-colored glasses.]_

He took her hand in his, resting their hands on his chest as he held her just like he'd done months ago on the rooftop. Her heart thrummed, and her stomach fluttered with butterflies as the song spoke to her sentiment.

"I'm sorry, but I'm here now. Does that count for something?" He asked, dropping his head to brush his soft lips against the shell of her ear.

A shudder went up her spine, and she closed her eyes, tilting her head back. This wasn't how coworkers danced, and she was sure people were already staring at them. Captain America holding the Black Widow, gazing at one another as though they hung the moon and all the stars... it was surely a sight to see.

Although, she didn't care if people were staring, at least, not in that moment, enraptured with everything that was Steve. "No, it doesn't count, but I know you'll make it up to me tonight." She whispered back, her eyes closed.

"Il me dit des mots d'amour. Des mots de tous les jours. Et ça m' fait quelque chose. Il est entré dans mon coeur. Une part de bonheur. Dont je connais la cause." _[He speaks words of love to me. They are everyday words, and they do something to me. He has entered into my heart, a bit of happiness that I know the cause of.]_

She opened her eyes again when his nose brushed against hers. His cheeks flushed with color as he understood what her words implied, and his fingers caressed the arch of her back. Suddenly, he spun her around and drew her back to him, making her gasp and then giggle.

She'd never heard herself laugh like that.

"I'm impressed, Rogers. Your dancing has gotten better." She noted. "You haven't even stepped on my feet."

"Give it a minute." He laughed.

She smiled, squeezing his hand gently as her fingers brushed across the nap of his neck. She felt goosebumps ghost across his skin at her touch.

"C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie. Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie. Et dès que je l'aperçois. Alors je sens en moi. Mon cœur qui bat. Et, dès que je l'apercois. Alors je sens en moi. Mon coeur qui bat." _[It's only him for me, and me for him for life. He told me, he swore to me, for life. As soon as I notice him, I feel inside me my heart beating.]_

She was only for him: only for him to kiss, to fuck, to hold, only for him to see when she at her most vulnerable.

Only for him for life.

It was one of the most idyllic moments of her life, dancing with the man of her dreams in the middle of a crowded ballroom. Although, it was like it was just her and Steve - the way it was supposed to be - the way it should've been from the beginning. She closed her eyes as his forehead pressed against hers, and his breath fanned over her lips. "Des nuits d'amour à plus en finir. Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place. Les ennuis, les chagrins, s'effacent. Heureux, heureux à mourir." _[Endless nights of love bring great happiness. The pain and bothers fade away. Happy, so happy I could die.]_ She whispered the words to the song in a low breath, grasping onto him tighter.

The song came to an end much too soon, the melody fading through the speakers and echoing throughout the ballroom. She hadn't wanted it to end, but she always felt that way when it came to her time with Steve.

It was then that she realized the ballroom was silent as everyone had been watching her and Steve dance. Then, they all erupted into whistles and applause. She stepped away from him like he'd scalded her, suddenly withdrawn and pretentious. She didn't look back at Steve as she quickly left the hall and made her way to the private quarters of the compound. She didn't understand what she was feeling, and it was terrifying.

Of course, Steve followed her, grasping onto her hand before she could step onto the elevator. "Tasha, wait." He said out of breath. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

So had she and that's exactly what scared her. "We can't do this, Steve. Whatever this is between us has to stop... I just, I can't do it anymore." She said, shaking her head and pulling her hand away from him.

"Why can't you? Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it. I'll be better, I promise." He replied, his eyes despondent and imploring.

The elevator doors opened, and he grasped her hand again, stepping inside with her. "You didn't do anything wrong." She said sorrowfully. She pressed the button to her - their - floor before looking up at him. "We can't be together. In a different lifetime if Peggy wasn't in the picture, sure, but not now. Not with the lives we have."

He hit the emergency button on the elevator, and the lift came to a grinding halt. "Oh, come on, Steve!" She glared up at him. He was so, damn stubborn and now she was trapped with him until someone realized the elevators weren't working. Knowing her luck, she would start crying and fall right back into his arms. She despised what he did to her yet loved it all at the same time.

"You're scared." He stated flatly. "You're scared of whatever you're feeling."

"I'm not scared!" She hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know that I'm right. A person like me could never be with a person like you."

He reached out to hold her, but she reached into the sleeve of her dress and pulled out a small knife, holding it defensively in front of her.

"Really, Natasha?" He rolled his eyes as he smiled softly. He seemed to think she wouldn't use it on him, but he was omitting who she actually was. “Can we talk about this like normal people?" He asked.

"You've forgotten that we aren't normal." She said as she stepped towards him, bracing for a fight. Talking wasn't her armament in situations like these.

He sighed, leaning back against the wall as she closed in on him. "What even is your plan? We aren't getting off this thing until someone fixes it."

"I'm sure I'll find a way off." She said tersely before she lunged at him. The knife sunk into the wall as he ducked, but she managed to land a hard punch to the underside of his jaw.

He didn't defend himself.

"I'm not fighting you." He affirmed, not even raising his hand as she pressed the blade against his neck though she would never actually hurt him.

With an embittered shout, she threw the knife down and stepped back. She pulled off the control panel of the lift, trying to figure out how to fix it herself. "I'm not Peggy. I'm not a woman you can settle down with, and I'm not someone who deserves you. We can't be together. It was great while it lasted but all good things come to an end." She said, finding it easier to talk to him with her back turned, although it would be much easier to fight him.

"What does Peggy have to do with any of this? She was my first love, but things between you and I are stronger. There's just something about you, even when you're trying to fucking stab me that makes me fall in love with you more and more every, single day."

She hardly perceived the curse word, convening on the word 'love.' She stopped fiddling with the wires, staring down at her hands that had began to tremble. "Don't say that." She snapped.

"What?"

She stood and came at him again. Her hands wrapped around his throat, and she shoved him against the wall. "That word. You can't fall in lo-... not with me." She said, looking into his eyes.

He grasped onto her wrists gently. He didn't have to use much strength to guide her hands away from his neck and wrapped one arm around her slender waist.

She didn't fight him.

"I already am. Nothing has to change between us besides the fact that some people might know how I feel about you, but why is that such a bad thing? We won't see half of them again."

"What about the others?" She mumbled. Was she really considering this, putting her heart on the line for him?

Yes, she was.

She really didn't want to lose him.

She couldn't.

"Wanda, Vision, and Sam have already seen us kissing... we wouldn't have to sneak around so much." He replied, reaching up and brushing her hair across her shoulder. "So what do you say, Natasha Romanoff, be my girlfriend?"

She laughed with the roll of her emerald eyes. He was so, damn cliqué.

"I'm sorry for trying to stab you. I'll say yes as an apology." She winked. "...Wow, so I'm really Steve Rogers girlfriend." She smirked. "But honestly, I'm going to be a terrible girlfriend."

"I'm counting on it." He chuckled. He kissed her softly, his tongue grazing her bottom lip. "Now can you get us out of here so I can take you to bed?"

She reached down and unbuckled his belt. "Take me to bed here; we aren't going anywhere. Seal the deal, парень." _[Boyfriend.]_


	13. Bite The Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't really the, "Thank you," he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bite The Bullet takes place right before Captain America: Civil War. I'm really not a fan of this chapter, but I figured I'd post it.

Captain America and The Falcon were surrounded by terrorists who yielded potent, machine guns and machetes. Two against a dozen, but it was no big deal as Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson took them out together. They'd handled way worse. The mission from Fury was going as planned: he and Sam would take down the men, Natasha would hack into their technological systems, disabling the bombs, and Wanda, along with Vision, would destroy their supplies.

"Hey, what are we doing for dinner tonight?" Sam shouted at Steve as he landed a punch to one of the terrorists. The man stumbled back and swiftly drew a knife from his boot. However, Sam was quicker and knocked him out with a strike to his jaw.

Steve quickly glared at Sam before he threw his shield, taking out one of the snipers in the towers that was raining bullets down on them. "Really, Wilson?" He yelled back. "I don't know, maybe we'll order pizza tonight?"

"Well, either way, I'm going to need a drink after this. These dudes just keep coming!" Sam retorted as another sniper began to shoot from above them. The bullets whizzed past their ears, but he and Sam dodged them effortlessly. Before Steve could even take out the shooter, the gunshots ceased, and he assumed that one of his teammates had taken care of the sniper. He presumed it was Natasha who had finished hacking their technological systems.

Eventually the men were taken out one by one, and there was a loud blast from the adjacent building, indicating Wanda and Vision had destroyed the supplies. The mission was coming to a close, and Steve and Sam were left with nothing to do as each fighter was knocked out or dead (from being shot by their own organization's snipers).

"Actually I'm in the mood for Chinese." Steve said through deep inhales as he caught his breath, thinking back on Sam's question. He set down his shield, taking off his helmet and gloves.

His friend laughed. "I can do Chinese."

"That sounds good to me!" Natasha called as she came walking from the main building with a laptop in her arm, a smirk on her lips.

Steve smiled as he watched her walk towards them, a sway to her shapely hips as she tucked her gun into its' holster. _God_ , she was beautiful. She still took his breath away every, damn time he looked at her. Missions were harder now that they were 'together.' He was worried about her significantly more, especially when she wasn't fighting by his side. He knew she could take care of herself; she was the strongest women he'd ever known and could even kick his ass, but he just couldn't help it. She would kill him if she knew how much he actually worried about her.

"Stop staring, Cap." Sam nudged him in the ribs. "She might shoot you."

He rolled his eyes, chuckling softly.

_Then, it happened._

He heard a man shout angrily from behind him, the loud footsteps of someone running, the distinct click of a rifle... a booming _bang_ that made his ears ring.

Someone began shooting at Natasha.

She dodged the first bullet, fumbling with the laptop as she reached for her gun in her holster. She was quick but not quick enough. Steve's senses heightened as adrenaline coursed through his veins. All he could think about was Natasha who had nothing to defend herself, all he could think about was her. Her not falling asleep in his arms, not seeing her beautiful smile, not hearing her voice... having to live without her. He ran towards her, not having the time to even pick up his shield. He pushed her to the ground and covered her just in time.

He felt a bullet pierce his upper, left shoulder, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. The pain was excruciating as another bullet penetrated his leg. Sure, he was a super solider with super serum enhancing his body, but the bullet had punctured his lung, possibly his heart, and no one was that unstoppable. The shooting ceased as Wanda and Vision swiftly made their appearance and took out the sniper. Once Steve was sure the man was dead, he rolled off Natasha with a low groan. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing down on the exit wound in his chest. Every breath he took was vehement, but it didn't matter.

Natasha was safe.

"What the hell are you thinking, Steve?" She shouted.

His eyes fluttered open to look at her. She sat up quickly, her eyes glassy as she put pressure on his chest, her hands trembling and pale contrasting to her midnight, black suit. The others surrounded him. Wanda took off her jacket, tying it around his leg, and Sam was already on the phone, calling for the medical cadre on standby as Vision reached under Steve's shoulder to cover the bullet wound on his back.

"God, damn-it!" Natasha hissed, glaring down at him. "Fuck you, fuck you! Why would you do that?"

He mustered a smile. "Not the thank you I was exp-expecting, Tasha." He teased, trying to focus on her, trying to stay conscious. He drew in short, shaky breaths, his chest heaving as his diaphragm expanded. He could feel blood seeping from the bullet wounds, pooling around him on the concrete. There was more yelling, the sound of a helicopter hovering in the air as the medical team jumped out and rushed towards him. Then someone pulled Natasha away, and he was surrounded by Fury's medical staff. He could hear her shouting, fighting against whoever was holding her back. He longed to tell her that he would (hopefully) be okay, that everything would be fine, and all that mattered was that she was safe. However, he couldn't muster the strength to say anything, slowly sipping into the darkness that drug him under in bottomless waves.

• • •

Steve awoke hours later (or maybe days later, he wasn't quite sure), lying in a hospital bed with an IV pumping fluids into his vein and the annoying beeping of a heart monitor. The bandages around his shoulder and thigh were irritatingly tight, but the affliction from being shot had dissipated. However, none of that was the first thing he noticed. It was Natasha, clutching his hand as she slept in the hospital chair with her upper body on the bed beside him. She looked remarkably uncomfortable and exhausted even as she slept, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes fluttering. She was still in her suit from the mission, her hair a tangled mess, and her hands stained with his blood.

At least, it wasn't her own.

"Sweetheart..." He mumbled hoarsely as he squeezed her hand gently.

She woke up quickly, sitting up and looking at him for a moment. She then gasped with relief, standing up and carefully wrapping her arms around his neck.

He slowly lifted his right arm around her, closing his eyes. He didn't realize she was crying until her shoulders began to shake, and she held onto him tighter. "You can't do that to me." She said through sobs, wiping her cheeks and pulling back to hold his face in her hands. She stared longingly into his eyes. "I can't lose you; don't ever take a bullet for me."

"I would take a million bullets to save your life." He replied, placing his hand over hers. He expected her to yell, to contend with him even though he just woke up but instead, she just shook her head and pulled herself onto the bed. Heedful of the tubing and wires around him, she tucked herself into his side, and he smiled.

He couldn't live without moments like these. If only they weren't in a hospital.

"Can you hand me that water bottle?" He asked, recalling how thirsty he was and not just for her.

She grumbled in annoyance, sitting up and handing it to him. "You don't deserve it." She retorted.

He disregarded her comment and kissed her forehead as she laid back down beside him. She didn't sit up even when Fury walked into the hospital room followed by Pepper, whom Steve was surprised to see. Their ardor for one another wasn't exactly a secret, but Fury hadn't known about it as he hadn't seen them dancing at Tony's party. Steve had always been apprehensive about Fury finding out about him and Natasha. He was the father-figure in her life, and he wanted his approval, to show Fury that he truly adored the woman in his arms and would never hurt her.

However, Fury wasn't exactly easy to please.

"Captain, you're lucky to be alive." He said shortly. It was the look in his 'eye' that said everything he didn't need to: appreciation.

Steve sighed with relief. It wasn't approval, but it was good enough.

"I'm glad to see you're up, Steve. We were so worried." Pepper said, smiling at him. She then gestured to Natasha. "You said you'd get cleaned up when he woke up. I brought a change of clothes for you." She said.

Natasha hesitated but eventually slid off the bed. Steve watched her leave before looking at the Fury. "The bullet nicked the right valve of your heart; the surgeons opened you up right away, but you've been out for a good forty-eight hours." Fury said. "You'll need to take some time off, and you deserve a raise."

Before Steve could respond, Tony strode into the room. "I brought you a teddy-bear, but clearly you already have a cuddle buddy." Tony smirked, setting down the massive, stuffed animal on the floor along with a handful of 'get well' cards.

Steve rolled his eyes, taking a long drink from the water bottle. "Is everything squared away with the mission?" He asked, ignoring Tony. "Everyone else is alright?"

Fury nodded. "They're fine and will be here soon. Nat pretty much kicked everyone out." He mused.

"I thought she was going to stab me earlier when I tried to mess with you." Tony laughed.

Steve glared at him, not bothering to respond to his jesting. Tony winked at him before turning around and leaving the room. After a debriefing from Fury, he left as well, and Natasha soon returned. She'd evidently showered in one of the hospital bathrooms, her hair damp and curly, and she was wearing a tee-shirt along with a pair of sweats. She had brought food for Steve, and she helped him unwrap the burger, occasionally stealing one of his fries as she sat in the chair beside his bed while he ate.

"Don't ever do that again, do you understand?" She said after a long bout of silence. "I cannot lose you and neither can anyone else in this world. You're Captain America, for heavens sake."

He knew she was going to bring it up again, to try and get him to promise that he wouldn't sacrifice himself for her. He could promise her a lot of things but never that. He would always protect her with everything he had to give. _Always_. "Tasha, you don't understand. I'd much rather die than have to live without you." He said.

She stood abruptly, combing her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Do you ever think that _I_ would rather die than live without _you_? Do you ever think that all I do is worry about you when we're fighting aliens, robots, and whatever else is trying to kill us? I'm selfish, Steve. I refuse to live if you're dead and anyway, you can't die because the world actually needs you. The world doesn't need me."

"I need you!" Steve exclaimed. "The world does too so if it came down to it, I would die for you, Natasha."

Neither of them would procure the argument. It was a never ending battle - a despondent one - but a very, real one that they had to face as Avengers. He saw the way she looked at the door, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes. He didn't want her to leave, even if her staying meant that they would go around in circles arguing about who would die for who. "I'm not going to let you walk out of here." He said, wishing he could reach her from where he lay in bed.

She huffed. "You can't even walk; you're not stopping me."

"Don't try me, babe." He smirked, hoping to get a reaction from her.

It did.

She finally smiled, glancing at him and dropping her arms at her side. "This isn't over but right now, I'm going to pretend like it is." She said.

"Then let's pretend." He said, opening his arm for her, and she all but jumped into bed with him.


	14. Beautiful Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm admiring the beautiful artwork on the most beautiful canvas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful Artwork takes place during Captain America: Civil War. It's shorter than usual, but there's plenty of smut and fluff.

Steve Rogers didn't know what to expect when he called Natasha Romanoff. They were in the middle of a civil war, torn between The Accords. She hadn't sided with him and chose to fight alongside Tony, but Steve wasn't angry with her. He could never be. He just felt empty without her, his heart torn in two, but he knew he had to carry on, to continue fighting for what he believed in. That's what Natasha had wanted him to do.

It'd been three, long weeks without her by his side, and he'd been longing to hear her voice, even if she was going to yell at him. He missed her ever, so charming wit and her beautiful smile... everything about her. He'd just wanted to call and make sure she was okay, that she wasn't as miserable as he was.

He didn't expect her to text him the address of the hotel she was staying at, to kiss him passionately and tug him inside the suite, demanding him to strip... to kiss him like their lives depended on it, when it seemed like his did. He _really_ didn't expect to have her legs over his shoulders as he thrust deep inside her tight core.

It was truly the best, unexpected surprise.

"Fuck, Steve. Yes, ah-yes!" She moaned, loud and filthily, her nails scrapping across his back.

He groaned in pleasure, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck, leaving another mark on her skin. He was trying to hold back so it could last longer, but her moans and cries had him on the edge of cumming. Although, he'd been on the edge the moment he slid deep inside her, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. "Tasha, you're killing me." He whispered, leaning up to look at her as he propped himself up on his arms. He loved to watch her as he fucked her just how she wanted him to. All he really wanted to do was please her.

He would go to the ends of the earth for her...

His hips ground into hers, harder and faster. She tightened around him, so wet and warm.

So perfect.

"Это план." _[That's the plan.]_ She said, her eyes closed as she smiled briefly.

She was worldly, so beautiful. He couldn't get enough of her. He would never be able to. He could tell she was close to her orgasm, gasping for her breath as her legs trembled. He'd memorized it long ago, the way she came around his cock as she screamed his name. He wanted - needed - to hear her. It was the possessive side of him that he didn't realize he had, knowing that only he would get to see her so throughly pleasured, to hear moans and carnal cries. Just for him. "Кончи для меня." _[Cum for me.]_ He said huskily, knowing how much it turned her on when he spoke Russian.

She was right there.

Reaching down between them, his thumb found her clit, and he rubbed her vigorously. Her body arched under him, her lips parting as she moaned his name like a prayer. A strand of his control snapped, and he thrust inside her even harder. Every sound she made spurred him on.

"Steve! I-I'm comin-... OH! STEVE! She cried, grabbing his shoulders as her hips pressed against his and the headboard slammed against the wall. The feeling of her silk around his cock, tightening and milking him for all he was worth, made him cum as well.

He felt it through his entire body, connected with Natasha in every, possible way. His heart thrummed, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. He shoved deep inside her with moans and grunts of his own, holding himself there for a few moments and filling her up before he slowly pulled out. He was entirely sated as was she. Her legs slid limply off his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her lower back, pulling her over his chest. He didn't want to let her go even though they were sweaty and sticky.

They caught their breaths together, lying in silence and basking in the afterglow of their highs.

"I think the people in the room over know that someone named Steve is having sex with someone named Tasha." Natasha finally spoke with a breathless laugh, her fingers brushing across the scar on his chest from when he took a bullet for her.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he tucked her red hair behind her shoulders. "Your hair is getting long." He mused. "It feels like forever since I've seen you."

It really did. He should've stayed behind, no matter the cost.

"I've missed you." Natasha said quietly.

He smiled sadly. "I've missed you too."

He knew it took a lot of courage for her to say her feelings out loud. She usually delineated her emotions through actions, the small caresses they shared around the others, the way she would curl in his arms at night and reach for him whenever he tried to get up early to go for a run.

"I don't want to talk about The Accords. I just want to enjoy my time with you." Steve murmured after a long pause. Natasha hadn't said much since she'd pulled him into her suite, mostly moans and cries from her parted lips, but he figured that he'd at least mention it.

"That's fine with me. I promise not to arrest you for your terrible, decision-making skills. Now, I may cuff you to the headboard..." She smirked.

He turned them over in a whirl of limbs and bedsheets, lying over Natasha and kissing her swollen lips. "Never in a million years did I think I would say this, but I'd let you." He spoke through kisses before pulling back to smack a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

She groaned, shoving his face away, and he laughed, trying to kiss her again. "Can you not?" She spoke grudgingly though a smile played upon her lips.

"No, really can't." He retorted, shifting down underneath the blankets, all the way down to her feet. He was determined to memorize everything about her, the constellations of freckles on her nose that he could see only if he looked hard enough, every scar she'd earned from fighting, every dip and curve of her beautiful body. He wanted to engrave _everything_ about Natasha Romanoff into his memory.

Unfortunately, the universe was cruel, and he knew that they'd have to part again until he wouldn't be putting her life at risk just by being with her.

She shoved the blankets aside, sitting up and watching him with inquisitive eyes. "What are you doing?" She asked as he kissed her ankle.

"I'm admiring the beautiful artwork on the most beautiful canvas." He said. He then kissed each of her calves, finding every scar, birthmark, and freckle, counting them with kisses. He heard her sharp inhale, the way her eyes softened, and she laid back down.

So far, he'd counted a birthmarks, four freckles, and six scars. Some scars were small, insignificant cuts while others she'd bled for. Some bullet wounds, some knife slashes, and then there were some he didn't even want to know the story to. He eventually reached her thighs, making sure he didn't miss a single one as he kissed up her body. Then he reached her abdomen, kissing the scar she'd told him about so long ago in the hospital.

The scar his friend, Bucky Barnes, had caused.

He kissed her taut skin once more for good measures and continued up her body. He reached the bullet wound on her left shoulder, reminding him of the time he'd come close to losing her. _Too close_. He clearly remembered seeing her behind the car, her hand covering the bleeding wound as she stared up at Bucky who was ready to fire the fatal shot. She was unarmed, utterly defenseless, and he tried not to think about what would've happened if he hadn't found her in time. He pushed the harrowing thoughts to the back of his mind and kissed the final freckle on her collarbone.

_16 scars, 3 birthmarks, and 10 freckles._

An utter masterpiece.

He looked up at her, seeing that her eyes were closed, but he noticed a tear arch down her cheek. He swiftly sat up, cupping her face. "I'm sorry, Natasha!" He exclaimed, surmising that by touching her scars, he'd invoked memories she didn't want to remember.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck as he laid down beside her and held her. Her bottom lip trembled, and he brushed away her tears. "It's just... God, Steve..." She laughed, her eyes fluttering open, and she looked at him with ardor reflecting in her jade eyes. "I'm an absolute mess. You make me lose it and feel so fucking special." She said.

He sighed with relief and laid his head down on the pillow. He was solaced that she wasn't upset, although, he still didn't like seeing her cry. "You deserve so much more than this; hiding in a hotel room, dating a criminal... I'm sorry, baby." He murmured.

"Who said I'm still dating you after this whole shit show?" She smirked, glancing up at him.

He frowned, wondering if everything between them had been spurious. Surely, it hadn't... to him, they were still 'secretly' together.

"Relax, Rogers. I'm your girl." She said, noticing the dejection cross his face. "Always have been; always will be."


	15. A Day Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, if you live to be a hundred years old, I hope I live to be ninety-nine years, and three-hundred and sixty four days. Then, I won't have to live a day without you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely my favorite one so far. I love a sappy Natasha so here's an extra, long chapter. Maybe have some tissues ready for the end. A Day Without You takes place between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War.

When had things gone according to plan?

Never - almost never - and this time was no exception.

All Natasha had wanted to do was pick up some groceries at the charming, Scotland market but instead, she'd been forced to fight off Ross' bumbling idiots that'd been on her trail for weeks. It was one against five and sure, she was the Black Widow, but all she'd had to defend herself was a knife, and she wasn't about to shoot her gun and risk murdering innocent civilians. One of the men had landed a hard blow to her abdomen, but she'd been able to omit the pain and stumble back to the hotel her and Wanda were hiding out at. Although, as soon as she shut the door behind her, she collapsed on the floor with a cry of pain. Wanda had come running from the bedroom, helping her stand and practically carrying her to the couch.

She was grateful for the young girl's help; Wanda had really stepped up and matured since Natasha had taken her under her wing after she escaped from the Raft. She wasn't even sure how Wanda had found her; Natasha hadn't seen or even talked to Steve since she helped he and Bucky escape at the airport. She missed him more than anything, especially as she lay on the couch in excruciating pain.

"What happened?" Wanda asked as she rolled up Natasha's shirt, her fingertips brushing across her bruised abdomen.

She groaned. "Ross. They know we're here, just don't think they know exactly where." She said through her teeth, drawing her legs up to her chest to relieve the ache.

It didn't help, at all.

"Shit." Wanda sighed. She pressed down on her abdomen, making Natasha wince. "You need to go to the hospital. You're probably bleeding internally."

Natasha shook her head, trying to sit up on the couch. Her head spun, and she swiftly laid back down. "Can't. Too risky. It'll heal on its own." She said shortly.

"Then what do we do?" Wanda asked. "That's not really how bodies work, Nat."

She glared at her from where she lay on the couch, and Wanda put her hands up as if to say, "Don't yell at me," before she walked back into the bedroom. Natasha could hear her talking to someone on the phone, but she didn't listen hard enough to hear what she was saying.

She was strong, _so_ strong, but she was still human and could become afflicted with pain. She would love some morphine, for it to course through her veins and ease the flourishing ache in her abdomen. Any sort of drug, actually. However, they didn't have any medical supplies, and she knew it was too risky to travel to Fury's headquarters. She probably wouldn't even be able to make the trip.

Wanda came out from the bedroom again and dug through the hotel's freezer, pulling out a frozen package of vegetables that she was planning to cook that evening. "Use this as an ice pack. It'll help. Then take a hot bath tonight." She said.

Natasha pressed the frozen vegetables against her side, inhaling deeply as a chill went up her spine. "Okay, Dr. Maximoff. Where did you learn all this?"

"Your man. He taught me how to cook as well." She replied, a smirk playing upon her red lips as her eyes gleamed impishly.

It'd been a joke between Wanda, Vision, and Sam before the Civil War. Steve and Natasha had never affirmed to their teammates that they were dating, but their discreet kissing and cuddling around the Compound had said otherwise. Nearly everyone knew that he had spent the night with her during the war as well.

Natasha rolled her eyes, sliding over on the couch to lie on the ice pack. At least it was helping soothe the pain. "Okay, Dr. Mind-Reader." She said, trying to respond with a witty comeback.

"That made no sense." Wanda laughed, turning on the television and sitting down at the end of the couch.

"Я чувствую, что умираю. Извините, я не имею смысла." _[I feel like I'm dying. I'm sorry I'm not making sense.]_ Natasha retorted. She lay on the couch listening to the television, trying not to think of the pain in her side and the ache in her heart.

Eventually, the frozen package thawed out and the pain returned. She pulled it out from under her and threw it on the table.

"Go take a bath while I make dinner." Wanda said. She stood, sliding her arm around Natasha's shoulder and helping her sit up. "Here, let me help."

"What would I do without you?" Natasha mused, resting her weight on Wanda as she slouched over. "This really fucking hurts."

"Yeah, I bet." Wanda hummed. "Too bad you won't go to the hospital."

Natasha didn't bother to respond.

After she was settled in the bathtub, Wanda let her be, making sure the door was left unlocked. She sighed in relief as the sank into the hot water which helped significantly more than the ice pack did. The bruising had spread, augmenting across her ribs and down to her hips. She trailed her fingers over the contusion, feeling just how swollen her side was. It would take time but eventually, her body would heal itself.

She heard the hotel door open and conversation came from the foyer. "Какого черта она думает?" _[What the hell is she thinking?]_ Natasha muttered to herself. Anyone could be at the door; Ross' men could be impersonating _anyone_. "Don't let anyone in, Maximoff!" Natasha shouted from the bathroom. It hurt to yell however, and she clutched her side.

"Relax, Romanoff."

Steve.

She gasped when she heard his voice, and he opened the door, stepping inside the bathroom and kneeling down beside the tub.

"Got a call from Wanda saying my girl is hurt." He explained with a handsome smirk.

She heaved herself up, wrapping her arms around his neck even though she was soaking wet and drenching his plaid shirt. "For heavens sake, Rogers." She breathed, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead. God, she'd missed him. She'd missed the feel of his muscular body against hers, his lips against her skin, his perfect smile, and his entrancing eyes. She was completely and utterly fucked, almost in love with Steve. _Almost_. Then, she recalled that he'd left without an explanation.

He'd left her.

She had no idea where he'd been the past few months... he could've been dead! Mustering the strength to shove him away from her, she glared at him indignantly. "The nerve you have to show up here like everything is okay!" She snapped. "You couldn't have even called me?" She could hear more talking from outside the door. "And who else is here?" She shouted. She was fuming now, like she wasn't in the bathtub hardly able to move.

He sighed, combing his fingers through his tousled, blonde hair. He reached for her again, but she pushed his hand away. "Sam, Bucky, and Vision." He replied. "Let's get you cleaned up and then I'll explain everything." He suggested.

"No, get the fuck out." She snapped, crossing her arms over her bare chest. His eyes remained on hers respectfully.

She'd been dropping the f-bomb the entire afternoon but frankly, no fucks were given.

It'd been a rough day.

"Wanda said you can't even get out of the bathtub on your own. Let me help you, sweetheart." He murmured.

_Sweetheart._

She would never admit it even to Steve, but she loved the endearing names he often used. It made her feel adored, beautiful and feminine. She _almost_ waved the white flag in surrender.

"Get. Out." She hissed. "And get Wanda in here."

Steve stood up from the floor, giving her one last, longing look before he shut the door and left her alone. Wanda swiftly came into the bathroom, looking at her like she'd gone mad.

"Why?" Natasha asked. One word, so many emotions: pain, despair, anger... happiness.

Wanda drained the water, seeing as Natasha couldn't reach the drain, and gave her a towel to dry off with. "Honestly, Nat... I can't handle you on your own. You're hurt, Ross' men are on our back, and we can't fight them alone. You're too stubborn to call Steve so I did it for you." She replied.

She was right.

Of course, she was and of course, Natasha couldn't think of a response that negated her. "Can you just help me get dressed?" She huffed.

"Steve should be doing this." Wanda grumbled.

"Watch it, witch. I can still kick your ass, ya' know." Natasha murmured.

Wanda adverted her eyes as she helped Natasha tug on a tee-shirt and a pair of shorts. "You would never." She teased.

Right again.

When they walked into the kitchen of the suite, Sam Wilson grinned at Natasha and hugged her, although he was heedful of her abdomen. "It's good to see you, Sam." She said before pulling back to glance at Bucky. She didn't trust him especially after he'd nearly choked her to death, his eyes glazed over and void of all sentiment. Although, he was Steve's best friend, and she would tolerate his presence as long as he had control over himself.

"I would say you look great, but eh..." Sam chuckled.

She rolled her eyes before looking at Vision and smiling cordially.

Bucky stood close to Wanda, their hands touching and a smile on his lips. She saw the romance that kindled between them, the looks they'd shared at the airport, and the way Wanda talked about him. She deserved to be loved, she really did. However, Natasha didn't trust Bucky. She would mention it later to Wanda in private, though.

She disregarded Steve as she sat down at the table with a groan. "Please tell me you brought drugs." She said.

Steve dug through his bag, pulling out an IV kit and walking over to her. She didn't acknowledge him, merely extending her arm and allowing him to slide a needle into her vein. She felt the effects to the drugs immediately, closing her eyes and sighing with relief. She could finally breathe without stabbing pain shooting up her side.

"I talked to Fury after Wanda called. He is sending a doctor who will be here tomorrow morning." Steve told her, rolling her sleeve back down her arm. His fingertips brushed against her soft skin, and she shifted away from him.

As Wanda and Vision cooked dinner, Steve, Sam, and Bucky explained everything that ensued over the past few months. Clint was on house arrest after working out a deal with Ross, Sam and Vision joined Steve and Bucky in hiding after escaping from the Raft, Thor was off the grid, and Tony was well, Tony.

"I have one question... just one. Why didn't you contact us?" Natasha asked.

Steve spoke up. "We aren't experts at hiding like you, Tasha. We didn't have your phone number, we had no idea where you took Wanda... we had nothing to go by. We've been looking for you guys for weeks and finally found out that you were somewhere in Scotland, which is why we were here soon after Wanda called." Steve replied as he stared at her, pleading for her to understand, to forgive him. "It killed me to leave you at the airport, and it kills me that I haven't been by your side like I should be. I just didn't know how to find you. I know that's not an excu-"

"Steve." Natasha shook her head, cutting him off as he began to ramble. Her gaze softened, and she smiled as his cheeks flushed with color. She'd been so overwrought without him, empty and addled after the Civil War that she hadn't thought about the situation in its entirety. She could disappear without a trace and that was exactly what she'd done to protect her and Wanda. She hadn't called him either... “I'm sorry. I can't expect you to search the entire world, and I'm sorry I didn't reach out to you." She said despondently.

"I would do anything for you. Even if it meant scouring the world." He said firmly.

Her heart was pounding, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. She didn't know what she was feeling, the way her heart seemed to surge. All she knew was that she wanted to kiss him, to try and pour her feelings into the kiss because words weren't enough. It scared her just how much she cared about him. She cast her gaze from him as the conversation between the disbanded Avengers picked up again. After a while of listening to the playful banter and watching the boys goof off, she reached the maximum dosage of the pain medication and removed the needle from her arm. Dinner was almost ready, but she'd lost her appetite.

She was inundated by her own thoughts, thinking about how much she cared about Steve and envisioning her worst nightmares coming true.

Losing him. She'd come close when he covered her, shot three times, one in the heart.

Nothing scared her more than that. She couldn't live without him, unable to even bare the thought of him dying. She knew she was being irrational, that he was with her now, but it could happen. She wondered if this was love, if this was what the KGB had never wanted them to experience for _this_ reason.

It was terrifying.

"Did you guys book a room here?" She asked after they were all seated at the table eating dinner.

"Yes. We booked two rooms, actually." Bucky replied.

She hummed in acknowledgement, hoping Steve would be joining her.

He did, of course, staying behind after they'd cleaned up the kitchen and bid one another goodnight. It was just him and Natasha now, the way it should've been every night.

Wanda had left with Bucky, much to Natasha's disgruntlement.

She still sat at the table as he wiped his hands on the dish towel. "Are you going to let me touch you now?" He asked playfully, glancing back at her.

She laughed though it still hurt to do so. "Carry me to the couch then you can touch me all you want." She said. "But we need to talk, especially about Wanda and Bucky."

He walked over to her, tucking her into his strong arms. "I know." He murmured.

She closed her eyes as he carried her to the couch and sat down with her in his lap. Her hand found his, and she pressed her palm against his, tilting her head back against his broad shoulder.

"I love you." He blurted out.

She wondered if she'd heard him correctly. Had he really just said the l-word? She looked up at him, and his cheeks flushed.

"I love you." He said again, much slower and coherently, leaning down to kiss her softly before he pulled back. The kiss, though brief, sent the most thrilling shiver up her spine, making her toes curl and her pulse thrum.

He had said it, and she really wanted to say it back. Fear made her bite her tongue, however.

"I'm too scared to say it back." She whispered.

"I don't expect you to say it back." He shook his head, cupping her jaw gently and tilting her head up. "I just needed to tell you."

"Well, if you live to be a hundred years old, I hope I live to be ninety-nine years and three-hundred and sixty-four days. Then, I won't have to live a day without you."

If that didn't say "I love you," she didn't know what else would.


	16. Words Aren’t Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew the Black Widow could even get jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Risqué And Carnal takes place between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War.

Steve loved Natasha, he really did. He loved her more than anything; she was the center of his universe, like the sun needed the moon and the stars, he needed her. He couldn't bare to live without her, and he, without a doubt, would take a bullet for her again, again, and _again_. She was the love of his life, no matter what. No matter how many times she tried to push him away, to pick fights over trivial things, to test his patience (and control when she would wear a lingerie but tell him that he couldn't touch her). He always thought she was beautiful; when she was dirty and exhausted from a mission, when she was dolled up in a tight dress, when she was lying in his arms as she slept.

So captivatingly beautiful... even when she was angry at him.

He could hardly take her seriously as she indignantly walked beside him, her arms crossed over her chest. He had to bite back his laughter seeing her flush and pout. The sundress she wore was as crimson as her cheeks, and her red hair blew in the warm breeze. They'd just finished eating lunch together at the local diner in Italy - he, Natasha, Wanda, and Bucky - on a double date, as Wanda had called it. It'd taken awhile for Natasha to warm up to the idea of Wanda and Bucky dating, but she was finally accepting of it.

They all were enjoying themselves until Natasha excused herself after the waitress took their orders and returned a while later, giving Steve a cold shoulder and shooting daggers at him whenever he tried to reach for her. He wasn't exactly sure why she was mad, but Wanda had said it was something to do with the waitress that had been 'flirting' with him, even though he didn't think she was.

They'd been on the run together for a month, along with Sam and Vision. Natasha had located a safe house in a charming village in Italy soon after her fight with Ross' men, and they'd been enjoying the coastline, delicious food, and night life. Steve dreaded the time when they would have to relocate but until then, he took Natasha out on as many dates as she would go on and spoiled her just like he'd always envisaged doing. He knew she covertly relished in it all. Which is why he wrapped his arm around her waist, even as she tried to shrug him off, as they walked back to the house. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He murmured, glancing into her entrancing, jade eyes.

"Nothing is wrong, Rogers." She retorted, twisting out of his grasp and striding forward to hook her arm through Wanda's. The two women had grown quite close over the past few months, and they always kept the men on their toes.

"I know something is wrong when you call me by my last name." He called after her, falling in stride with Bucky. "I love her, stubbornness and all." He mused earnestly to his friend.

"Nat's stubbornness is rubbing off on Wanda. Just yesterday, Wanda locked me out of the bathroom when I tried to take a shower with her." Bucky grumbled. "I still don't understand the point she was trying to make. At least you know why Nat is angry at you."

"I really don't..." Steve shook his head.

"She's jealous." He replied exasperatedly.

He sighed. "How could she be jealous? She's the most perfect woman in the universe." He said.

Bucky laughed. "Why am I still giving you women advice, old man? Nat is a woman, and she's in love with you. She's going to get jealous when a woman flirts with you, and she can't turn into the Black Widow in a restaurant. So it's your job, as her man, to make her feel appreciated even if her feelings are utterly ridiculous. You know why? Because she loves you, and you love her."

Steve was silent for a few moments, thinking about what Bucky had said. His friend had a valid point even though he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Natasha Romanoff could be envious of _anyone_. "I'll make sure she feels appreciated tonight." He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he thought about all the ways he could do that. A candlelight dinner, a rose petal bath, a box of chocolates, love making... he would do it all just for her.

"I'll make sure to get a hotel room tonight so Wanda and I can sleep instead of listening to the headboard banging against the wall all night." Bucky retorted, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk.

Steve gaped at him as his cheeks flushed crimson. "We are not that loud!"

Bucky glowered at him.

Okay, maybe they were when he would thrust a bit harder than usual, when she would ride him a bit faster, her nails digging into his shoulders, when he would suck her clit until she came again, again and _again_ because he just couldn't get enough of her taste and the sounds she made because he just loved to pleasure her. “I'm sorry, we'll be quiet tonight." He apologized to Bucky in an contrite mumble.

He teased Steve the rest of the way back, and Steve made sure to let the door close on Bucky as they walked inside the safe house. "Steve!" He exclaimed, catching the door with his metal hand before it shut on his face.

"Sorry, man." He smirked at him before walking into the kitchen where Vision and Sam were eating lunch. Sam glanced at him as he shoved spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "How was your double date?" He asked.

Steve shrugged but before he could respond, Natasha joined them in the kitchen. "Meet me upstairs. Now." Natasha said lowly as she walked past him, letting her shoulder jostle his.

"Wow. It must've been awful seeing as you're about to get your ass kicked." Sam chuckled.

"It wasn't awful. Sometimes she just needs to spice up our relationship." He said.

Natasha would still be able to hear him as she went upstairs, and he knew would be paying for that snide comment. It was thrilling to aggravate the fiery, red-head, their arguments resulting either in passionate, ardent sex or a rough spar. Either way, they were left out of breath and utterly sated.

He left the kitchen, trailing behind Natasha as he followed her up to the bedroom they shared. She was standing in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. If she wasn't wearing a sundress, it would look like she was on a mission, ready to kill. As soon as the door was shut, she stormed up to him. He braced himself for the punch he thought she was going to throw at him, but she just grasped onto the collar of his button-down, backing him against the wall. Her shapely body pressed against his, and he drew his arms around her.

"You're mine." She snapped.

His heart jumped in his throat, and his blood rushed south at her words. His length hardened in his jeans, and the room suddenly felt very hot. It was the way she was looking at him, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed. The look in her beautiful eyes spoke more than she ever did. She kissed him deeply, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and he groaned lowly. Sliding his hands up her dress, he grasped her ass in his hands. She wasn't wearing panties. "Natasha." He murmured huskily when she pulled back to sponge kisses down the column of his throat. "God, I love you."

He meant it. Every time he said those three words. Every word he spoke to her was genuine.

"I hate you sometimes." She hissed in response. She ripped his shirt down the middle and buttons flew everywhere as her hands sought out the firm planes of his broad chest.

He knew how this was going to go down with Natasha in control.

He pushed the straps of her dress off her slender shoulders, his fingers slowly caressing her soft, pale skin. However, before he could touch her anymore, she dropped to her knees and began to unbuckle his belt. As much as Steve would've loved to let her continue, it didn't feel right. She was mad at him, and sex was only a temporary fix. "Wait. Let's talk first."

"It's a blow job. What do we need to talk about?" She snapped.

He grasped her arms gently and pulled her to her feet. "What happened at the restaurant? Everything was going great until it wasn't."

She huffed and reached for his belt, but he grabbed her hand before she could unzip his jeans. He drew her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the pounding pulse in her wrist. "Tasha, I hate when you're mad at me. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix this."

For a moment, he was taken aback to the time he'd gotten them trapped in the elevator just so she couldn't walk away and leave him without answers. It seemed she was too as her gaze softened, and the avidity in her eyes faded.

"It's nothing, okay? I just want to fuck you." She said, trailing her fingers across his chest as she avoided his gaze.

"I wish I could read that pretty, little mind of yours." He mused.

It would make things a lot easier, but he always liked a challenge.

She sighed, glancing up at him through her eyelashes before she looked down. "It's just... it was the way the waitress was looking at you like she could have you, and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it..."

He drew her in his arms and kissed her forehead as he put the pieces together. It wasn't just jealously that she was feeling, it was trepidation about losing him like she thought she had after the Civil War. He longed to ease her sentiment, to assure her that he was going absolutely nowhere and would stick around forever no matter how many times she pressed a knife to his neck. "She can't have me because only one, perfect woman has my entire heart." He said. "You are my world, Natasha. Everything I live for, and nothing will ever change that."

He grasped her chin and tilted her head up. His heart filled with ardor as she met his gaze and smiled beautifully, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. "I... I adore you." She murmured between the clasps of their lips as she reached for his belt.

He didn't stop her this time.

"Let me touch you." He murmured as she leaned out of his reach, her knees hitting the floor. "I'm selfish... I want to touch you."

She shook her head. "Позволь мне прикоснуться к тебе." _[Let me touch you.]_ She countered, tugging down the hem of his jeans and boxers. He was already hard, his thick length dripping with pre-cum, aching for her touch. He leaned back against the wall as her hands slid up his thighs, and she hollowed her mouth, taking him as deep as she could.

"Fuck." He groaned, leaning back against the wall as he combed his fingers through her hair. He heard her muffled moan, and her tongue slid along his length. She was driving him crazy, right to the edge with each swirl of her tongue and hard suck of her mouth. "Tasha..."

He was going to cum before he'd even gotten to touch her. “I'm going to... Nat-," He stuttered, shoving his hips back against the wall as he felt his lower abdomen tighten. He tried to pull away, but she shifted closer to him, cupping his heavy balls as she sucked the tip of his length, her tongue running along his slit.

"Cum. I want to taste you just like you taste me. You don't let me do this enough." She said, pulling back briefly before she took him in her mouth again.

"I'm selfish... I'm addicted to the taste of you." He grunted.

All he could focus on was her tongue trailing up and down his cock, her soft gags as she took him as deep as she physically could, the way she massaged his balls... her mouth. Her moans as she sucked him.

_Her._

He glanced down, meeting her beautiful eyes as she looked up at him through her dark eyelashes. "Cum, Steve. Be the selfless man you are, and cum because that's what I want you to do." She mumbled before she took him back in her mouth.

That did it.

He moaned, arching his hips forward as he came into her mouth, combing his fingers through her hair. She swallowed his copious load as much as she could, the rest dripping down her chin and onto the swell of her breasts. She was a dream looking so liberated and proud with a valiant smirk as she stood up. "I'm a Steve-Rogers addict." She grinned wickedly.

He chuckled breathlessly, wiping his cum from her chin. "It's my turn now." He said. He grasped her thighs, and she hooked her legs around his hips. His length pressed between her slick, wet folds, and they both moaned in inclination. "Can I take your dress off?" He asked, lowering her down onto the bed and leaning over her.

"Why do you still ask? I know you'll never do anything that I don't want you to." She huffed irritably, pulling him down to kiss him.

He rested his weight on his elbows, relishing in the feeling of her lips against his for a few moments. "I still ask because I want you know how much I respect you." He replied. Sitting up, he lifted her dress over her head and kissed her once more.

She paused, cupping his cheek and gazing up at him with adoration. "Okay, make love to me." She said reverently - breathlessly - her eyes fluttering shut.

He'd never heard her say the word 'love' before, but he chose not to acknowledge it. It'd taken years to gain her trust and many, more for her to trust him enough to tell him her deepest, most profound thoughts. So, he made love to her because words wouldn't suffice in that moment. Because he could never, truly tell her with words just how much he loved her. So he showed her and hoped it was enough.

It seemed that it was. 


	17. If She’d Been Brave [I]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only Natasha Romanoff would've been brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If She'd Been Brave takes place between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War. This is part I.

It was supposed to be a relatively, simple mission for Natasha Romanoff. So simple that she'd insisted on doing it alone. The plan was to travel to Belgium, infiltrate the U.S embassy to track down the rest of the Avengers, and return to Scotland within the week. Everything was going accordingly until she erroneously triggered an alarm and was imprisoned by the government who hadn't given her any leniency. She'd almost made a getaway, taking out half the guards and disabling their technological system. Then, the regency realized exactly who she was, and an entire army of men had surrounded her shouting, "Stand down or else we'll shoot!"

She had no choice but to surrender. However she'd been able to send a beacon signal to the others back in Scotland before she was stripped and restrained. They were merciless and cruel, pressing knifes to her throat and guns to her temple. She wasn't scared - she never was - knowing she'd have another chance to escape. Or her backup would arrive before then, and Steve Rogers would swoop in like the hero _her_ man was.

"So, tell me... where are your friends, Natasha Romanoff?" The Belgian agent asked as he grasped the ends of her dyed, blonde hair and tugged her head back.

She glared into his dark eyes, clenching her fists as she rocked back on her toes in the metal, interrogation chair. Stripped down to her sports bra and spandex shorts, the ropes around her torso had rubbed her skin raw, and she was starving; they'd been depriving her of food as a torture method. She was growing weak as time went on, hours turning into days, her eyes heavy and her strength abating. She was running out of time. “You really think that I know where they are? I was trying to break in to find that information out." She said through grit teeth.

He yanked on her hair harder. _Ouch_. He was really getting on her nerves, and she was looking forward to when the time came when she would get to aim a weapon at his chest.

"Everyone knows you're fucking Steve Rogers. A disgusting, used woman and America's golden boy... he sure has shitty taste." He hissed, leaning closer to her face.

She tried not to let his snide remark get to her, focusing on the mission and the task at hand. She was trained to be void of any and all emotions, however, she felt her heart jump in her throat, and her stomach twisted in apprehension. She still conjectured why Steve loved her and why he remained in hiding with her, even though most countries had granted him and Sam pardon. He could've moved on a long time ago - maybe bought himself a house and found a sweet, loving girlfriend who didn't have so much red gushing from her ledger. But he'd chosen her, the woman who was too scared to tell him exactly how much she loved him.

The agent smirked, perceived the way her gaze wavered. "Touchy subject, isn't it?"

"You'll regret every word you've said." She hissed. "I'll find him before you ever do."

She figured that she'd profess her knowledge of Steve's whereabouts to keep him safe, although, she knew the agent wouldn't believe her. Her reaction had unfortunately given her away.

He pulled a knife from his belt, pressing it to the thin column of her neck. A bead of blood smeared across her pale skin, and she flattened her lips in a thin line. "No one is here to save you. I could do whatever I wanted. Our laws are different here in Europe." He said.

"Мудак, I'm from Russia. We start interrogations with a knife to the neck." _[Asshole.]_ She retorted. "You can torture me all you want, but there's nothing for me to tell you."

"I suppose you're useless then. This is a pathetic way to go, Romanoff, considering the fights you've won and the wars you've waged." He said, drawing the knife away from her throat. It seemed he'd had enough of her stalling, and she'd withered away his patience with her arrant remarks.

She rolled her eyes, although she didn't respond to him. She scrutinized his every move, awaiting the time when his guard was down, and she could use the weight of the chair to bring him down. It would take a lot of her strength but if it worked, she'd be able to take his knife and free herself from the binding ropes. He made a rookie mistake as she was watching him, turning around to look at his phone.

"It seems we have an unidentified aircraft nearing the embassy. Can I assume who it is?" He chuckled sinisterly.

It was her team, of course, and this was her chance. Heaving her shoulders up, she rolled forward. The legs of the chair caught on the hem of his pants, and he stumbled to his knees as he dropped his phone, and it slid across the floor.

"What the fuck?" He exclaimed.

She rolled again; this time on top of him. She felt the ropes loosen around her, and she managed to free her arms, grabbing the knife in his hand. "You should go to Russia and learn how to tie someone up properly." She said as she sliced through the ropes, freeing herself just before he shoved her off of him. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she was able to disdain the way her legs trembled as she stood up swiftly. Just as she steadied herself, he drew a gun from his waistband.

It happened in slow motion.

She threw the knife, hitting him in the jugular as he pulled the trigger to the gun. The gunshot resonated through the room, a defeating echo that made her ears ring as the bullet pierced her left ribcage.

She couldn't breathe.

She collapsed to the floor, covering the bleeding wound to stop the blood that seeped through her fingers as she tried to gasp for air. She felt her heartbeat slow significantly, a choked cry escaping from her lips as her legs went numb. Then her arms, and then the pain dissipated. She realized that she was going to die. There'd certainly been a few close calls as an Avenger and spy, but _this_ was it. It was a pathetic way to go. She was going to die with the (dumb-ass) Belgian agent who'd already taken his final breath.

She was going to die without telling Steve Rogers how much she loved him. To thank him for everything he'd given her, for him showing her what it meant to have a best friend - a true love. She wouldn't get to see his handsome smile again nor feel his arms wrapped around her. She longed to hear his voice, to hear him say that he loved her and to tell him that he needed to carry on, saving lives like he was meant to do.

Another cry pushed past her trembling lips as she envisioned their life together, the precious moments that'd gone by too fast and everything she wished she'd told him.

"I love you." She whispered into thin air as if he was there to hear her.

Then, she closed her eyes.


	18. If She’d Been Brave [II]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only Natasha Romanoff would've been brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If She'd Been Brave takes place between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War. This is part II.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Natasha's mission was only supposed to be a week long... she'd said it would be easy, that they had nothing to worry about, and she'd send a beacon signal if she needed backup. Although, they had received her signal, it'd been delayed due to the stormy weather. The delay, the mere, two minute delay, had changed the entire mission and cost Natasha her life.

Steve wasn't supposed to find her in the government interrogation room - no pulse, pale as snow, lying in a pool of her own blood... he wasn't supposed to be begging her to wake up, trying to save her life when it all felt like a horrific nightmare that he longed to wake up from. He couldn't even recall making it back to the Quinjet, stumbling over his feet and blinded by tears as Sam took Natasha from his arms and laid her down near the medical supplies they hoped they'd never need. Steve had kneeled down beside her, wincing when heard her ribs crack under the palm of his hands as he pushed on her chest, trying to circulate blood to her still heart as tears streamed down the arch of his cheeks.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think coherently. The ache in his heart was agonizing, and he felt sick to his stomach. His suit stuck to his body uncomfortably, sticky with sweat and her blood.

Bucky flew the jet and radioed Fury as Sam worked around them, gathering the medical supplies that could help bring her back.

"You c-can't do this to me, Natasha." He whispered, looking down at her through blurry vision. "I need you... Please, sweetheart. Come back to me." He said before he leaned down, tilting her chin up and pushing his own, desperate breaths into her mouth before he continued chest compressions. It was never supposed to happen like this. He should've never let her go to Belgium. They should already be back at the safe house, watching those ridiculous movies she loved, making love, doing anything and everything as long as she was safe in his arms. He couldn't even remember their goodbye. Had he told her he loved her? Had they fought about her leaving? Had he kissed her and begged her to stay because he really just had a bad feeling about the whole thing?

He couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember!

Sam pushed him away momentarily so he could hook up the monitor and apply the AED pads to her chest. "Keep going while I push an IV." Sam directed.

Steve did as he was told. He should've been relieved that his friend knew what he was doing and had extensive medical training. However, all he could think about was Natasha and that haunting, flat line as the alarm indicated her blood pressure was dropping. He was going to lose her. He was going to have to live without her: her teasing and sarcastic comments, her kisses, her laughter, her voice, her smiles... he was going to have to live without the love of his life. He'd wanted to die before her, as selfish as it was. He never wanted to have to live a day without Natasha Romanoff.

His greatest fear was coming true.

"Don't give up, Steve. If you give up, she's going to give up. We have to help her fight." Sam shouted, perceiving the way Steve began to bow his shoulders and his compressions weakened.

Steve tried to pull himself together, to continue as Sam carefully pushed an IV into the crook of her right arm and sealed a bandage over the bullet wound. Her lips were cyanotic now, as blue as his ensemble, and he still couldn't feel her steady heartbeat that'd kept him grounded all these years. "God, no. No, no, no." He mumbled.

He felt hysterical now.

It'd been at least six minutes.

He needed her. Wanda needed her... their entire family needed her.

"Stop!" Sam pushed him away again, his eyes on the monitor. "I just saw her heart beat." He said, taking over compressions.

Steve grasped onto her cold hand, bringing her fingers to his lips. "There's so many things I still need to tell you; s-s-so many things we still need to do. P-please wake up." He said before a sob arose from the back of his throat, and he couldn't say anything more as he cried.

Suddenly, Sam stopped CPR. "She has a pulse!" He shouted, grabbing an oxygen mask and holding it over her mouth. "Come on, Natasha... How far out are we, Bucky?"

"Eleven minutes." Bucky replied, glancing back at them.

It was the longest eleven minutes of their entire lives.

He'd never felt so helpless, so weak and deplorable. He'd always been able to react quickly and think clearly in high pressure situations, but he found himself utterly incompetent when he had seen Natasha. All Steve could do was clutch onto her hand and beg her to stay with them as the jet descended.

As soon as they landed and the doors opened, medical personnel surrounded them and took over.

"No! I can't leave her." He cried as Sam, Fury, and Bucky struggled to hold him back as she was wheeled from the jet and into the surgical suit immediately.

He wasn't being rational. He couldn't save her; she needed medical intervention, and he would just get in the way. However, all he could think about was if she passed away, and he wasn't there to hold her, to tell her how loved she was. What if he wasn't there if she woke up? To praise her for fighting and thank her for not leaving him. He had to be there either way. No matter what happened.

"You need to calm down, Rogers. This is out of your hands now." Fury stated, grasping his broad shoulders. "Sit down. You're getting blood everywhere." He said.

Steve tried to calm down, he really did. However, he could feel panic rising inside him, his heart pounding as tears slid down his cheeks. He wanted to fight everyone off him, to find Natasha and try to help her, but he didn't have any strength left to do so. He was shaking with sobs - crying too hard to even think straight. Fury led him through the double doors that they'd wheeled Natasha into. He led him past the hospital rooms and into the observatory of the surgical suit. There were too many doctors around her but he caught glimpses of her on the table, a flash of her blonde hair or her frail body.

Sam came into the room a few minutes later, handing Steve a pair of clothes from the jet. "Go get cleaned up. When Nat wakes up from surgery, she doesn't want to see you like this." He said.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" Steve asked. He sounded weak and pathetic. He felt small and entirely helpless as the love of his life fought for her life.

Sam shook his head, grasping his shoulder and leading him from the observatory. "She will. She's as stubborn as you. So go take a shower." He replied, pointing out the locker room at the end of the hall.

As Steve stripped down to shower, he pulled his locket from the pocket of his suit and clicked it open. He stared at the photo of he and Natasha for a while, thinking back on their life together.

The universe was cruel. It'd tried to tear them apart and was trying to take her away from him once again, but he wasn't ready to let her go.

Not in this lifetime because they were meant to be together forever.

Lifetime after lifetime.

He turned on the shower head and scrubbed her bright, crimson blood from his skin, his tears cascading down his face along with the droplets of water. Once he was clean and the water had stopped running red, he dressed into the sweats and hoodie Sam had given him before striding back to the observatory. It was hauntingly silent as the doctors stitched her skin and mumbled medical terms that he didn't understand. He didn't even try to. All he longed for was to be at Natasha's side. To hold her hand, stroke her hair, and tell her how much he loved her.

It felt like hours later when they stitched her wound, and she was wheeled into the ICU. Steve tried to follow them into the suite she was taken into, but one of her doctors pulled him aside, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. "She's still in critical condition, and I want you to be aware that they can change. It'd be better for you to wait outside the room in case she codes." The doctor said, a hand on Steve's shoulder.

The shock had faded, but the heart break hadn't. He shook his head, trying to push past the doctor into the room where Natasha laid in the hospital bed fighting for her life. He hadn't noticed Fury who'd came to stand beside him and took ahold of his shoulders. "Come on, Captain. We have a private room for your team down the hall." Fury said calmly. "Once she's stable, you'll be allowed into the hospital room."

Steve could feel the tears beginning to arch down his cheeks, hopelessness and despair spreading from his core. He tried to breathe - in, out, in out - to focus on the fact that Natasha was alive and cared for by some of the top doctors in the country. While the wheels turned in his head, he let Fury lead him to the room down the hallway where Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Vision were gathered looking as heartbroken as he was.


	19. If She’d Been Brave [III]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If She'd Been Brave takes place between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War. This is part II.

Natasha wasn't dead, but it sure felt like she was. She'd awoken to an oxygen mask plastered to her face, machines monitoring her vitals along with an IV in her wrist, and an indescribably, painful ache in her chest.

Every breath she took was agonizing

She was alone although, a nurse had come bustling in as soon as she opened her eyes and shifted slightly in the hospital bed. From what she understood from the woman, Steve, Bucky, and Sam had stormed the embassy and found her just in the nick of time. She'd been transferred to Fury's cipher hospital, undergoing emergency surgery to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding in her lungs. The nurse assured her that she'd just notified the others that she was waking up, but non-medical personnel hadn't been allowed into the ICU until she was stable. That hadn't stopped Steve Rogers of course, but he'd been forced out by Fury himself. 

"I ne-need to see him." Natasha tried to say to the nurse by her bedside, although her words were muffled by the mask, and her throat was parched. The room spun around her, and she closed her eyes again, clutching onto the edge of the mattress. She'd never felt so frail, so powerless and afraid. She needed Steve to hold her, to take all the pain away with his loving words and gentle kisses. She was deplorable. _Pathetic_. However, she'd figured that after being shot in the chest, she was allowed a few moments of weakness. 

She needed to tell him that she loved him because life was short, and it could all end with the snap of a finger. 

The nurse hushed her. "He'll be here soon. He's probably running through the halls right now and knocking people over." She mused. "You need to relax and stay calm. You're still very weak, Ms. Romanoff."

_That was an understatement._

As soon as she saw Steve in the doorway a few minutes later, she reached up and shoved the mask off her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried, but pathetically failed, to sit up. The nurse steadied her but stepped back when Steve rushed to the bedside and wrapped his strong arms around her in the most gentle way possible. She was crying, clutching onto him like it was their last goodbye, like she would've done if he'd been there when she was taking what she thought were her last breaths. "I love you." She said, sobbing incoherently. 

He evidently didn't understand her because she was sure he would've pulled back and looked at her in disbelief. He often told her how much he loved her as he was much better with words and sentiment than she ever would be. He never emboldened her to say it back, assuring her that he would be fine if she never did. Although, she loved him, she really did. She knew a long time ago when they'd slow danced to La Vie En Rose. Maybe even before then at Clint's. She'd just been too scared to admit it.

Now, she needed him to know.

Now, she needed to be brave.

"God, I thought I'd lost you." He mumbled thickly, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He pulled back to adjust the oxygen mask over her face, but she pushed it away and grasped his hand. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there sooner. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He whimpered.

She shook her head, lying back on the pillows because her chest hurt, and her head was spinning. "Don't even say that. It was my mission, and you found me in time. At least, I'm assuming it was you." She breathed a short laugh, tugging on his hand gently to pull him closer to her.

"Yeah, and you know why your ribs are cracked? Because Sam and I did CPR for God-knows how long until we could get you here." He said, his eyes despondent and a tear slipped down his cheek.

She brushed it away, taking a good look at him. She noticed his bruised lips from giving her mouth-to-mouth, and his knuckles were red and swollen from doing continuous chest compressions. Her heart had stopped... she'd actually died.

"I love you." She whispered, smiling softly when she saw his tearful eyes widen in surprise. "I'm not saying that because you saved my life - like you always do, again and again. I genuinely love you, Steve. I have for a long time, and I'm finally ready to be brave about it." She _really_ felt lightheaded now. It was probably a good idea to put the oxygen mask back on, but she longed for Steve to kiss her. To take her breath away all over again.

"Natasha..." he breathed, cupping her face with his hands and looking into her eyes. She felt vulnerable as he gazed into her soul, but she wasn't scared this time. With the love that glowed in his azure orbs, she had no reason to be. "I love you too." He said.

She closed her eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to his soft lips that promised so much more once she recovered. She then slid the mask over her mouth. "You're going to make me pass out." She joked.

He smiled even though another tear arched down his cheek which he quickly brushed away. The nurse checked her vitals and pushed another round of fluids through her IV as Steve sat down in the chair beside the bed, holding onto her hand and staring at her like she was the only thing that mattered in his life. Like she was the reason why the sun rose every morning and the stars shined at night when the skies were clear. "What?" She asked curiously, pulling the mask away from her mouth so he could hear her talk. 

He merely shook his head, leaning forward and kissing her forehead before he sat in the chair again. "I just... I thought you weren't going to wake up. I thought I'd have to find a way to live without you which I couldn't p-possibly do." He said despondently. He leaned forward again, laying his head on her chest and closing his eyes. "You are my world, and everything I live for."

For a moment, she wondered what he was doing. Then, she realized he was listening to her heartbeat. She smiled, rubbing the tense muscles in his broad shoulders. "I won't ever leave you, I promise. Even if I were to die, I'd always be with you, you know." She murmured.

He shook his head, evidently not mitigated with her words. "You won't die. You can't. I would've done CPR for hours to bring you back. I woul-..."

"Steve, моя любовь." _[My love.]_ She cut him off.

He slouched forward and began to cry as his composure shattered. She clutched onto his hand and combed her fingers through his soft, tousled hair, pressing his head against her chest. She wasn't sure what to say to him; she'd almost died and realistically, she could have. Nothing could have saved her. Not even him. So, she remained quiet and let him cry.

He nuzzled his nose into her neck, and she felt his tears on her skin. She was sure she smelled like iodine from the surgery, but he didn't care. "I'm here, мед. I love you; I'm not going anywhere." _[Honey.]_ She mumbled through the oxygen mask, closing her eyes. She felt tired and wanted to sleep now that she was content and safe with Steve. However, she longed to spend time with him and see her teammates that she could hear coming down the hallway.

He pulled back from her after his tears ceased, and he regained his composure. The nurse had left a while ago, giving them privacy, but Natasha could hear the voices of her friends from outside the closed door. "I should probably let them in." Steve mused.

She smiled, humming in agreement. "I'm surprised they haven't broken it down."

As soon as Steve cracked the door open, Wanda pushed past him and ran to Natasha, clutching onto her with shaking hands. The others, Sam, Bucky, and Vision piled into the room, crowding around the bed. Wanda was crying, sobs pushing through her chapped lips as Natasha rubbed soothing circles on her back. There were so many tears and emotions they all were feeling. It was overwhelming especially because she'd just woken up, but she didn't want them to leave. They weren't just her team.

They were her family. 

Wanda finally pulled back after nearly ten minutes, and Natasha smiled at the young girl, who suddenly didn't seem so young anymore. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from crying, but her skin was pale. She looked around at the rest of her friends who all looked exhausted and drained. "How long have you guys been here?" She asked them. 

"You've been out for at least a day and a half." Sam replied, reaching out to squeeze her hand that wasn't moving the mask over her mouth. "Everyone _really_ needs a shower."

"You all look like shit so get some rest. I'm clearly not going anywhere." She said. "And I honestly need to sleep."

"You look worse than us." Bucky quipped, making her roll her eyes. 

She began to adjust herself in the small hospital bed, awkwardly twisting to not irritate the surgical wound. Steve wrapped his arms around her lower back, carefully helping her lie down. "You too, моя любовь. Then when you come back, bring some decent food." _[My love.]_ She told him.

Steve shook his head, but Bucky clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, man. She's okay now, and she'll be awake when you get back. You can't stay the night in the ICU anyway. Fury will make you leave... let's not cause another scene." Bucky said with a soft laugh.

He shook his head, shrugging his hand off him and sitting down beside Natasha on the bed. He looked like a stubborn, adorable child. She nudged him, and he looked down at her. His beautiful eyes were hauntingly despair; it was as if leaving her was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Maybe it was.

"Go. I want some good food anyway." She told him encouragingly.

After a moment of hesitation, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and let Bucky guide him from the room as she watched him leave. He probably felt like she did when he was shot, when Maria had pulled her away so medical personnel could do their job. She'd been screaming, crying hysterically to be at his side even though she would've just gotten in the way as they saved his life. Maria had tried to calm her down, but the only time she did was when she was at Steve's side. She was glad it was her in the hospital bed this time, not him. 

Fury and a doctor whom she didn't recognize came into the room a few minutes after her family left and updated her on her condition. She really didn't listen to him or Fury, too tired to comprehend what either of them were saying. She fell asleep as the doctor was talking, and she was clutching Fury's hand.She didn't sleep well, afflicted with nightmares and flashbacks as far back as the Red Room. She hated hospitals, and she hated sleeping without Steve. A long time ago, she would've never allowed herself to become dependent on anyone, no matter who they were. However, she was in love, and she wasn't afraid of her feelings anymore. 

She was awoken from a particular nightmare of Wanda dying to Steve shaking her gently, shouting her name. She was sweaty, the hospital gown sticking to her body and the heart monitor beeping quickly.

"You're okay. You're safe." Steve said to her, brushing her hair from her face as he leaned over her on the bed.

She was now that he was back.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to her, closing her eyes. "Nightmare. I have them when I don't sleep in your arms." She said shortly, noticing that the nurse had changed the oxygen mask to a cannula while she was sleeping.

"So do I." Steve murmured, kissing her lips gently before he pulled back to set down the fast food bags he was holding. He had showered, dressed in a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans. "These past few days without you have been hell."

"Yeah. It's been so long I almost forgot how handsome you were." She said teasingly. He hadn't shaved in a couple days; she also needed to cut his hair as she usually did, but she liked the look. A lot. So much that she wanted to omit her pain and fuck him until they broke the hospital bed.

He chuckled. "I know that look in your eyes." He glanced away from her, opening the Chick-fil-A bag and setting the meal out for her. "Keep your hospital gown on, sweetheart."

She laughed. He knew her all too well.

-

Natasha was released from the hospital nearly two weeks later, joining the others at a nearby safe house that Fury secured for them. Her wound was still healing, her chest tight and aching, but she was feeling significantly better with each passing day. Especially with Steve taking care of her. However, she was utterly bored when her team went to work with Fury. Steve promised that he'd sneak away early that evening and bring her dinner, but she wasn't sure when he would be back. Snow fell from the grey sky, dusting the city and setting the Christmas mood. She was feeling the holiday spirit, although she was still high on pain killers and knew that was presumably why she was so lively. 

She'd taken herself on a shopping trip and bought decorations for the barren house. The stereo played Christmas tunes as she climbed a ladder and hung tinsels from the corners of each wall. It was coming along beautifully, and she made sure to hang a mistletoe in the living room. Just for her and Steve, although, she knew Bucky would use it as an excuse to kiss Wanda. 

She heard the click of the front door as she was taping a tinsel to the wall, and Steve called her name from the foyer. He sounded addled, seeing the work she'd done even though she was supposed to be on bed rest.

When had she ever heeded a doctor's orders?

"Natasha!" He exclaimed when he walked into the room and saw her on the ladder.

She glanced down at him as he rushed towards her and grasped onto her thighs as if she was going to fall. She couldn't help but laugh at his unduly protectiveness. "Hey, моя любовь. It's good to see you too." _[My love.]_ She smirked chastely.

"I can't even leave you alone for three hours." He sighed. Grasping her hips, he gently pulled her into his arms and leaned down to kiss her.

She quickly pulled away with a chaste smirk.

He frowned. "I need a kiss. It's been a long day without you." He said.

"It's been three hours like you just said." She retorted, wondering if he would see the mistletoe hanging above their heads just a few feet away.

He did, swiftly catching onto her little game. After all, he was Captain America, a very observant man. Grasping her hands in his, he pulled her under the small plant and smirked handsomely. “Now, I need my kiss." He said. 

She brushed her nose against his, leaning up on her toes as her eyes fluttered. "I love you." She whispered, brushing her fingers across the stubble on his jaw. She couldn't seem to stop saying those three words. She still felt the same butterflies from the very first time they kissed, and the same, potent longing towards him. It would never fade... the vitality and love that sparked between them.

"I love you more." He said, gazing into her eyes lovingly. He brushed his nose against hers again, making her giggle.

"That's impossible." She shook her head. The love she had for him was the strongest thing she'd ever felt, ever experienced. She was convinced there was nothing more powerful.

He chuckled, kissing her lips gently before he pulled back to look at her, though he kept his forehead pressed against hers. "No. I love you the most." He countered. Wrapping his arms around her, he effortlessly lifted her off the ground, and she locked her legs around his waist.

"As I said, impossible." She mumbled before she kissed him deeply. She slid her tongue along his bottom lip and felt him shudder underneath her touch. Goosebumps ghosted against their skin as she parted her lips and kissed him with an open mouth. She felt vestige all the way from her toes to her fingertips, her pulse quickening as she saw sparks behind her closed eyelids.

She pulled back as a random question popped into her mind. "What do you think about marriage?" She asked. She'd been thinking about it for a while, marrying him and becoming _his_. Him introducing her as his wife instead of just his girlfriend. It was society that had influenced her, a diamond ring and a piece of paper having so much meaning when it had never really meant something to her before.

He frowned, pulling his head back to look at her. For the very first time, she couldn't read his expression, and she felt very afraid. She slid off him and turned around. God, she was _so_ stupid. He was Captain America... why would he want to marry the Black Widow? 

He reacted quickly as she stepped away from him, grasping onto her hand and pulling her back to him. "Natasha, sweetheart, I'm just surprised." He said.

She tried to pull away again, but he didn't let go. "No, it's stupid. We couldn't even do it legally. It's just stupid." She could hardly look at him, utterly humiliated.

"If you think it's stupid, then I'm stupid for thinking of all the ways I could propose to you. I was just scared that you would say no." He said, cupping her face and tilting her head up so her eyes met his.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He wanted to propose to her? "Really?" She asked in a mere whisper, contemplating if it was too good to be true.

Surely it had to be.

He was too good to be true. 

"Really. I love you, Natasha, and a small part of me wants every man to know you're mine when they see a ring on your finger." He replied before he stole the breath from her lungs with a passionate kiss.

She moaned unashamedly, kissing him back with just as much ardor. She pushed him up against the wall, grasping onto the collar of his button-down as he reached down and gripped her ass with his large hands. Her core was aching, and she knew that she was already wet. She wanted him... needed him.

 _Now_.

She knew he needed her too as his hard length pressed against her lower abdomen. They tugged one another's shirts off, and his large hands gripped her ass through her leggings as her lace bra rubbed against his bare chest. They were too caught up in one another and didn't hear the front door open nor the voices from their friends returning home earlier than usual. 

"Can you two QUIT?"

Steve and Natasha swiftly pulled back from one another when they heard Bucky's mocking voice from the doorway. 

Wanda, Vision, and Sam were gaping at them as well.

"Keep it in your pants, horny bastards." Sam smirked knowingly. 


	20. Selfish And Selfless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selfish And Selfless takes place during Avengers: Infinity War.

It was impossible.

It was supposed to be impossible...

She was supposed to be infertile, sterilized by the Red Room that had been determined to strip the graduates of their identity as humans. They'd been taught that love was for children and families were for the weak, those who were normal. That a family - children and a husband - would tie them down and get in the way of their duty to serve the Red Room.

Their only purpose in life.

Although, she'd been able to let her past go, to move on with Steve Rogers and the Avengers' team that'd become her family, the Red Room would always be apart of her. What made her into who she was. They'd taken everything from her, but she'd managed to rebuild her life with a little help.

To do good in a world that'd done her so wrong.

She'd learned a lot along the way. Including the fact that love was real, and she wanted a husband - Steve Rogers. The Red Room had instilled in her that she didn't need to belong to someone, that she wasn't supposed to. However, now with a new life, a new being, she wanted to. She wanted Steve Rogers to be hers, and she to be his. Physically, emotionally, and legally. Now, they were engaged, and she couldn't be more excited for Fury to pull a few strings and obtain a marriage license for them. She'd never cared much for labels, but she loved when Steve called her his fiancé, soon to be his wife.

She loved the diamond wedding ring on her finger - it'd been his mother's that he'd customized for her, and she remembered crying as he got down on one knee and proposed to her on the beach. She'd spent months deciding on a ring for him, eventually purchasing a silver ring with dark, blue banding. It was entirely fitting for Captain America. She'd never seen him without his ring, and she only took hers off when she had to go undercover. It never felt right without it, the familiar weight on her finger connecting her to Steve even when he wasn't near her.

She'd learned that she wasn't just a cold, blooded killer, and she didn't have to be professional, pristine perfection all the time. Her life was better, so much brighter now that she had lasting friendships and the most perfect man in the entire universe. 

And now, she had a baby.

Well, medically speaking, a fetus, a blooming blossom that was surely to change everything she thought she knew about the world.

Damn, super-solider Steve and his super-sperm. 

She hadn't believed it at first even though the signs were evident. The nausea and morning sickness. Her sore breasts and the ridiculous cramping. She didn't want Steve to worry more than he already was, so she finally contacted Dr. Fine and after about a dozen tests, they had the results.

_"Nat, it's perfectly possible for you to be pregnant since they didn't remove your uterus in the Red Room and the 'sterilization' was simply scaring your Fallopian tubes. With a little help from the super-serum, you and Steve have created a miracle baby. As long as we monitor everything carefully, you should have a completely normal pregnancy."_

Dr. Fine had been more excited about it than her, a huge smile on his face as he handed her pamphlets and told her to schedule an appointment with an OB in two weeks.

She couldn't even wrap her head around it, and she still hadn't told Steve... _three_ weeks later. Aside from the fact that she was fifteen weeks pregnant with a 'miracle child,' and she still needed to tell the father, she was a relatively simple person. As long as everyone minded their own businesses, stuck to the mission, and kept up their end of a deal, she was as easygoing as an ex-assassin could be. However, her team hadn't kept up her end of their deal, and Natasha was fuming. 

“You said you'd check in!" She shouted, her hands on her hips as she glared at Wanda, Bucky, Sam, and Vision. "I should've never let you four go off on your little getaway."

She huffed in vexation, pushing her short, blonde hair from her face as she wiped the extraterrestrial blood from her knifes. Not only had they had to fight off fucking _aliens_ that were after Vision's stone, but they'd gotten the beacon signal while her and Steve were in the middle of talking... right before she was about to tell him that she was pregnant.

Now, they were on their way to Wakanda, and it was definitely not a good time to tell him the news.

"We just wanted more time." Wanda sighed, clutching onto Bucky's hand.

She shook her head, turning on the heels of her boots and walking to where Steve sat at the controls. She hadn't noticed her hand drift down to her stomach and once she did, she quickly pulled it away before anyone else perceived the odd touch. "They should've checked in when they were supposed to." Natasha said to Steve when he glanced up at her with his blue eyes that still took her breath away even after all these years.

He set the jet to auto pilot and placed his hands on her hips, turning her towards him. It was silly that after all this time, she still felt the sparks that arose at his touch. "I know, but I have a feeling that we would've done the same thing." He murmured. He was almost as tall as her even sitting down, and she dropped her forehead against his as he cupped her jaw with his large hand. The cool metal of his ring pressed against her skin. "You can be mad at them but don't be too mad. The peacefulness we've had this week was bound to end. At least we had time to ourselves, and it was complete heaven." He said.

They had a perfect week together; the entire safe house to themselves. She wasn't sure if heaven existed but with Steve, it just might.

God, he would be an amazing father if they got through this. His kind eyes and perfect smile, gentle touches and smoothing words.

Natasha quickly found her vexation dissipating, closing her eyes as he nuzzled his nose against hers. She slid her hand up his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under the palm of her hand. "I suppose I won't be too mad at them." She murmured. "You've turned me into such a sap."

He chuckled, squeezing her hips softly before he turned back to the controls. "My perfect, little sap." He teased. "So beautiful."

 _His_.

Her heart fluttered even though she scoffed and rolled her emerald eyes as she sat down in the co-pilot's seat. She would never get used to Steve calling her beautiful, him complimenting her no matter what she looked like whether she was dirty from a mission, dolled up for a date, or just waking up in his arms. With his deep voice and shining eyes, it was always like he was seeing her for the first time, all over again.

She sighed contently, leaning over the controls. As she did so, she noticed the locket on the dashboard of the jet. It was Steve's, the one he kept Peggy's photo in. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she twisted her hands together. She was envious, of course. How could she not be? Peggy had Steve before they even met. She was his first, although, Natasha hoped that she'd be his last. She leaned forward in the seat again, taking the old locket and rolling it between her fingers. The color had faded, but he'd taken care of it as much as he could as the years had flown by. It hurt, and she hated herself for feeling the way she did. Peggy was an incredible woman and deserved Steve. He deserved her too, to be loved by someone without so much red in their ledger.

She didn't deserve him. She knew she didn't, but she was selfish. She couldn't live without him.

She clicked open the locket and looked at the small photo tucked into the edges.

She gasped.

It was her - them. It was a photo Tony had taken almost four years ago. They'd been messing around during a training session, and neither of them had realized Tony was taking photos. Steve's strong arms were around her waist as he kissed her forehead in what'd been a 'friendly' gesture. Their eyes were closed, and they were both smiling. So carefree and happy _together_. In love, long before either of them realized it.

"Oh, my god!" She exclaimed, completely taken by surprise. She'd thought that for all these years, she was still overshadowed by Steve's first love.

Steve sat up quickly, looking beyond the glass as if he expected a spaceship to emerge from the clouds ahead of them. "What? What!" He asked, thinking something was wrong.

She gazed at him, her eyes glassy with tears as love flourished in her heart. She was being unusually emotional, but she figured it was from the pregnancy hormones.

He calmed down when he looked at her and saw his locket that she clutched in her hand. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked. He set the jet to auto-pilot again and reached across the space between their seats. He grasped her hips, lifting her onto him, and she curled against his large body. His hands brushed across the arch of her back as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him. "I hate when you're upset. Talk to me." He said.

This was home, right in his arms. Right where she belonged whether they were in New York, halfway across the world, or thousands of feet above the earth.

"I love you. I just love you so much." She said, trying not to sob. "I'm not upset." She used to be afraid of her feelings and expressing them, but she wasn't anymore. She knew Steve would never judge her, and he appreciated her dissemination. He always tried to understand and if he didn't, he held her just as tight and loved her just as much.

He cupped her cheek, kissing away her tears. "Are you okay? You've been acting weird these past few weeks." He chuckled softly. "Not that I mind a very, cuddly and horny, Natasha."

"Shut up, Rogers." She laughed, shaking her head. "We'll talk about this later once we land in Wakanda."

His frowned, looking at her with concern in his blue orbs.

"I'm fine, and it'll be a good conversation. I think..." She said, easing his apprehension.

It wasn't a great time to tell him about their baby as much as she wanted to. However, she didn't know how he'd react. Would he be angry at her? Scared? Would he leave her? No, she knew she wasn't thinking rationally. This was Steve Rogers, and they'd vowed to never leave one another's side. She trusted him completely, more than she'd ever trusted anyone. He wouldn't leave her; she was confident in that.

She slid out of his lap and settled down in the co-pilot seat. She took over her part of the controls and helped Steve guide the Quinjet to the landing pad in the middle of the embellished city of Wakanda. In the past, she'd enjoyed visiting the kingdom. However, she wasn't sure if her presence would be welcomed this time. She'd turned her back on Tony during the Civil War and suppressed T'Challa while Steve and Bucky made their escape from the airport. She doubted that either of them had forgave her.

Steve seemed to know what she was thinking as she slowly unbuckled and stood from the controls. Wanda, Sam, Vision, and Bucky had already gotten off the jet, but Steve was still waiting for her. He grasped her hand, brushing his thumb over her wedding ring. "I talked to T'Challa. Shuri helped Bucky after the war, remember? They've put the past behind him, and we should too." He said. "He also knows we're engaged and offered to have a wedding here on Wakanda..."

She laughed, tilting her head back and looking up at him through her long, dark eyelashes. "Is there anyone you haven't told?" She teased.

He shook his head, drawing her to his chest. "I'm just proud to be marrying a woman so far out of my league." He smirked ever, so charmingly.

She couldn't decide if she wanted to slap or kiss the smirk off his face. "You need to get your ego in check." She said, pulling away from him although, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Rhodney is still here, isn't he?"

Steve nodded in response, taking her hand as they walked off the jet and into the fading sunlight. T'Challa and his guard's were waiting for them with a kind smile. "Welcome back, my friends." He said. "Or should I say, newlyweds." He chuckled.

Steve smiled, clasping T'Challa's hand, and wrapping his arm around Natasha's waist. "Not yet... I'm still waiting for her to change her mind." He jested.

She laughed softly, gently nudging Steve in the side. "I'm in it for the long run, Captain." She said teasingly.

T'Challa smiled and drew her in for a cordial hug. She was relived to see he had really put the past behind him, and she needed too as well. "Thank you, and I truly mean that." She said as they pulled back from one another.

"I've missed our team. It's nice to have you back even if it is under these circumstances." T'Challa mused as he led them into the main edifice of the golden city. "We had rooms prepared for your arrival, and I'm sure Shuri is already taking a look at Vision."

Natasha relished in Steve's touch as he placed his hand on the arch of her back as they walked into the building, taking in the city that was flourishing with life. The technology on Wakanda always astounded her. The medical advances they'd made had saved Rhodney's life, and the developmental armaments had protected them all on missions.

She paid no mind to Steve and T'Challa's conversation as they made their way to the second level of the floor where Vision was lying on an examination table as Shuri analyzed the stone's circuitry. As soon as she stepped into the doorway, she scanned the room and saw Rhodney talking to Bucky and Wanda. "You look like shit." She said with a smirk, getting her friend's attention. He actually looked great; he was evidently recovering well from his devastating fall during the civil war, his eyes shining bright with life despite all that'd happened and all that'd been taken from him.

He laughed as he turned to look at her, quickly limping up to her and hugging her tightly. "Nat! You are absolutely glowing." He exclaimed. "Damn, look at this ring! Steve had to of spent a fortune on it."

She clasped onto his hands, smiling at her friend that she'd veritably missed.

"He could've bought her a candy ring-pop, and she'd still marry his dumb-ass." Sam chimed in before she could respond to Rhodney.

They all laughed, and she glanced over her shoulder at Steve, sharing a loving smile with him. For one moment, everything felt okay. However, they could only pretend that things were. They were running out of time, and the situation was clement as the extraterrestrials seeking Vision's stone were sure to find them. There wasn't anywhere to hide anymore, but they had to make light of the circumstance just like the Avengers' always had.

"Hey..."

Bruce spoke softly - bashfully - as he stepped into the doorway from the other room he'd been hovering in. An unnerving chill slivered up Natasha's spine as she looked at the man who'd questioned her relationship with Steve and abandoned his team when they'd needed Hulk's strength the most. _God_ , she still wanted to punch him. His brown eyes met hers as he clasped his hands together behind his back, but she swiftly looked away, refusing to acknowledge the man who'd made her even question herself.

Steve, the gentleman he was, nodded in a terse greeting at Bruce, but no one else said hello to the doctor. The silence was so awkward and thick, she wasn't sure if her knife could even slash through it.

Shuri was the one to pierce the silence. "Once I start this, I need to be able to finish it. I shall begin tomorrow seeing as it's getting quite late." She said, helping Vision off the table. Sam and Wanda steadied him, their hands on his shoulders as Vision groaned in pain.

"We don't have much time." Steve murmured, looking out the vast expanse of the window as he combed his fingers through his tousled, blonde hair. His eyebrows were creased in worry, and his blue eyes were muddled with questions and confusion. Natasha yearned to kiss his apprehension away; as if she wasn't feeling the same way, as if her caresses would make the situation better for them.

T'Challa hummed in agreement. "We will monitor the airspace and watch for any activity. I'll have everyone notified if there is any disturbance." He said assuredly.

Natasha was, for once, satisfied with his response. She typically would've forced Shuri to help their friend, Vision, to save them time and work through the entire night. However, they would just be hurrying up to wait, and then wait some more. She was never a patient person, but she _needed_ to tell Steve that she was pregnant before the fighting began.

"I'll have my guards show you guys to your rooms." T'Challa said. "Bucky, Wanda... would you two like to share a room?" He then asked.

Natasha spoke before either of them did. "No! They will not be sharing a room." She exclaimed. Wanda gave Natasha a disappointed look as a smirk tugged at the corner of Bucky's lips as if to say to Wanda, _'Don't worry. I'll sneak into your bedroom like I've been doing.'_ Natasha had learned to trusted Bucky, she really had. However, Wanda was like her daughter. She felt extraordinary protective over the young girl and didn't like the thought of her sleeping with a man yet.

"Yes, Mrs. Rogers. We'll see to that." T'Challa said, his tone humorous as he held back his laughter.

"It's actually Mrs. Romanoff-Rogers." She smirked.

The guards led them all from the room and into the quarters in the adjacent edifice. As they parted, Rhodney hugged Natasha one more time and murmured lowly, "I didn't think it was possible for you to be so glowing..." He grinned cheekily.

She pulled back quickly and looked at him with wide eyes. There was no way he knew she was pregnant. He was just making the assumption because apparently pregnant women had a certain 'glow' to them, but it was still unsettling that people - well, one of her closest friends - could tell. She needed to tell Steve. Now. As soon as they were in their suite, and she checked to make sure the door was locked, she turned to look at him. "Steve, sit down." She said firmly.

He looked at her worriedly and reached out for her, seemingly instinctive. "What's wrong, love?" He asked.

She quickly stepped away from him, and he sighed, coming to the realization that she wanted - no, needed - for him to sit down, and she wasn't going to let him comfort her this time. She couldn't even look at him, only hearing the bed springs creaking under his weight as she turned her back to him and dropped her gaze to the floor.

Просто сделай это. _[Just do it.]_ She whispered to herself.

"I'm pregnant."

She heard his sharp gasp. She tried to focus on her own breathing, twisting her sweaty hands together as her stomach churned from her frayed nerves.

"Did you just say you're pregnant? I thought... that can't be possible." 

"Fourteen weeks, confirmed by Dr. Fine." She said meekly. She was surprised she'd even found the strength to speak again. She didn't turn around even as she heard his footsteps approaching her. She could feel the shock radiating off him in waves, and his hands were shaking as hard as hers were as he grasped her waist.

"Really? Like you're pregnant with my baby?" He asked, turning her to face him and cupping her face with his hands.

She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze that she was sure would be glassy with disappointment and fear. "I dunno whose else it would be, super-sperm solider." She mumbled, falling back on humor as a coping mechanism.

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, his large hands sliding across her curves to her stomach as he pressed a kiss to her abdomen. "You're pregnant!" He said with elation, sponging adoring kisses to her stomach that was bloated, ever so slightly. Of course, he would notice. He had her body memorized. He looked up at her, and the look in her eyes stole the breath from her lungs. He was happy, utterly ecstatic that they were expecting a child even with the raging wars and their divided team. Despite all that'd happened, all he'd thought that he would never have - a wife, a family, a home - Steve Rogers was _happy_.

She dropped to her knees, wrapping her legs around his waist as she drew him close to her. She was crying again, but so was Steve. It was okay this time; the droplets rolling down the arch of their cheeks were tears of complete happiness. The future was unclear, but theirs wasn't. They would get through it all, _together_. 


End file.
